Witches and Goblins and Ghosts, Oh My!
by The Reviews Lounge Too
Summary: Park your brooms at the door and come read for a spell, for these stories are about that special night of the year when witches and ghouls come to call. A collection of multifandom one-shots celebrating all things Halloween as written by The Reviews Lounge, Too forum regulars.
1. Great Angemon

**Behind the Mask**

**Author:** Great Angemon

**Fandom:** Assassin's Creed II - Brotherhood and Revelations

**Claim:** Ezio Auditore

* * *

><p>Panting heavily, Ezio finally reached the end of the race, where a tall man was waiting for him. "Congratulations, messere!" he cried. "You are the first to return from the race!"<p>

He led Ezio to a large gazebo, where a crowd of people had gathered. "Signora e signore! We now have the winner!" He grabbed Ezio's wrist, raising his arm high above his head, and Ezio, who had been speaking softly and amorously to the beautiful woman that had followed him, looked around, surprised. "This good gentleman is the fleetest of foot, the strongest of heart and body in all of Venezia! And he is now one step closer to winning the grand prize!"

At these words, one of the robed men at the base of gazebo raised a golden mask high into the air, and the crowd roared with delight. The woman kissed Ezio's cheek and walked away. Ezio was just following her when he heard a voice that he'd not expected to hear again.

"Ezio?"

He whirled around, sure that he had misheard, but no! "Christina," he breathed. And there she stood, just as beautiful as he remembered with her brown hair and the features of her face, proud like an angels. Without warning, both rushed towards one another and embraced, Ezio lifting her off of her feet and spinning her around.

"Oh, Christina!" he cried, setting her down and holding tight to her. "It has been so long!"

"Ezio," she said quietly. "Ezio, where have you been? I waited for so long, but you never came back."

"I was at my uncle's villa."

"Your mother and your sister, are they alright?"

"Yes, they are fine," Ezio assured her, his voice calm and soothing. "Claudia is managing Mario's estates, and mother…"

Frowning with concern, Christina said, "What is it?"

"She is still in shock. She has not spoken to anyone in months. Not since Pertruccio…" but his voice cracked and trailed off.

Christina pulled him close to her once more and gently rubbed the back of his neck. "Do not worry, amore mio," she whispered. "I am sure that she will snap out of it."

Silence permeated the night, for, despite the festivities, nothing existed for the two besides each other as they gazed into each other's eyes. "It has been so long, Christina," said Ezio. He raised one hand to her face and caressed her cheek with his thumb. "You are more beautiful than I remember."

"Oh, Ezio," she murmured, closing her eyes and leaning into his touch.

Ezio suddenly pulled away, and her eyes snapped open to face him. "Ezio, where are you going?"

"I have things to do," he said, not looking at her. "I will be back to Firenze as soon as I can, amore mio, but for now I cannot return."

"But Ezio, how can you go? We have only just seen each other." He raised his head and looked into her eyes. Then, without warning, he moved towards her again quicker that she could even see, embracing her and pulling her head in close, gently kissing her.

They stayed like that, their kiss growing more and more passionate with each passing second. The warm night grew fiery around them, and the lights seemed to dim so that they were standing in a pool of darkness, with nothing around them.

And again, Ezio pulled away from her. The night chilled and the lights returned as Christina opened her eyes. But she no longer saw Ezio. Looking around, she saw the tail of a pair of wonderfully vibrant white robes flying over the edge of the roof of a nearby house. "Oh, Ezio…" she said quietly.

"Christina!" called a voice from nearby. "Christina, where have you gone, mia bella!"

A man, tall with thick cropped brown hair came from around a nearby building, a white mask in one hand, and a bouquet of flowers in the other. When he reached Christina, he found her with a tear on her cheek. "What is wrong, my love?" he asked, dropping the objects he was carrying and embracing her. "Are you alright?"

"I'm alright, Manfredo," she said, wiping the tear away with her sleeve. She reached down onto the ground and picked up the mask and flowers, handed him the mask and smelled the flowers. "Are these for me?"

"Of course, mia bella cara," he replied with a smile. "Do you like them?"

"They are beautiful, Manfredo," she replied, putting one arm around his neck and placing a soft kiss on his cheek. "Grazie, uomo affasciante."

They began walking, holding each other's hands as they returned their masks to their faces. After a few minutes, Christina's other hand, the one with the flowers, rose up to her chest and began fingering at her dress. A moment later a small pendant emerged, which she gripped tightly. Another tear fell down her cheek.

"Mi dispiace, Ezio," she whispered, so low that even Manfredo didn't hear. "Mi dispiace, amore mio."


	2. McJunker

**The Halloween Case**

**Author:** McJunker

**Fandom:** Harry Potter

**Claim:** Ron Weasley

* * *

><p>By all available evidence, Frank Doubleday's last weeks on earth were hellish ones.<p>

Two months previously, he was loitering on Platform 9 3/4s while the students were packing onto the train merrily, anticipating their new school year. As the train began to gather steam to chug off to Hogwarts, Doubleday seemed to leap onto the tracks in front of it. Quick reflexes from the crowd of parents saved him, their magic plucking him from the air and bouncing him back to safety. Shaken and sweating, he babbled something about slipping and thanked them all before running off.

Neville and Hannah Longbottom reported that since then, Doubleday had run up a considerable tab at the Leaky Cauldron. Hannah was quick to point out, however, that while Frank was a quiet, mournful kind of fellow, he always paid up within the week and never caused any ruckus. He just drank, steadily and quietly, as though he had been waiting all day for relief and was determined to have it now. As the weeks past, he started showing up earlier and earlier in the day.

On October 3rd, St. Mungo's records showed him as being treated him for an overdose of the Draught of the Living Death. The Healers had noted that if they'd been a half-hour slower with administering the Wiggenweld potion, or if Doubleday's dosage had been a quarter ounce more, he would never have awakened. Doubleday had claimed it was a potion brewing accident.

On October 31st, the day where the dead are said to walk among the living, Frank Doubleday wandered from the various parties being thrown at Knockturn and Diagon, hardly talking to anyone. The next morning his landlord, smelling something nauseous from within Doubleday's flat, let himself in and discovered the body.

Poison. Judging by the fumes, he had taken Etruscan Mercyweed. It was neither tasteless nor odorless and it took up to ten minutes for the effects to set in, so Mercyweed was not widely used in assassination. It was barely regulated since it was a necessary component in several household potions.

* * *

><p>"What are we thinking?" asked Harry Potter. The Auror team was in the depths of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, where the bodies were interned before being released to their loved ones. Harry was filling out the paperwork on the death, because he had lost the coin toss against Ron and neither trusted the two rookies to fill out the forms without making small errors that would keep them there longer. Harry scribbled his quill across the parchment quickly and efficiently, with better penmanship than he'd shown in school.<p>

The victim was short and stout, but didn't cross the line to actually being fat. His haircut was conservative- a respectable low fade on the sides and long and wavy on top. It would pass without comment among muggles or wizards. He was still in his blue striped pajamas as he lay still on the smooth stone slab.

"Suicide," said Harry Devereaux.

"I'm going to go with suicide," said Samantha Brand.

Ron Weasley shook his head. "Murder."

Three people looked at him cross-eyed. The fourth, the man on the slab, did not.

"How do you figure, mate?" asked Harry.

"Suicidal guy, right? History of self-destructive acts. Depression, alcoholism. Chooses to off himself on Halloween. So he drinks poison and waits for the end, alone in his room, alone in the world. Right?" Ron said.

"Err..." said Devereaux.

"So where's the bottle?" Ron asked. "We searched his flat up and down, like we always do. Where's the bottle the Mercyweed came in, huh?"

The other three Aurors stared. Devereaux swore softly.

Sam said, "He could have Vanished it after drinking."

"We checked his wand," Harry said. "The last spell he cast was Lumos. No Vanishings in the 48 hours before his death."

Ron quirked a small smile. This job wasn't nearly as much fun as he'd thought it would be, but there was still some joy to be had in spotting something everyone else missed.

Harry muttered something to himself before slapping the parchment on the desk and standing up. Ron knew he'd had a night out planned with Ginny. It looked like it was going to be postponed. Again.

"Alright, this case just got bumped from depressing to suspicious," Harry said. Ron's smile widened. He always liked watching Harry puff up into his leader stance. "Sam. Start on his backtrail again. Find and interview everyone who Doubleday talked to since he fell in front of the Hogwarts Express. Friends, coworkers, family. You understood?"

Sam nodded and Disapparated with a small pop.

"Devereaux, go back to his flat. Scour that building from basement to chimney. Find that bottle. Failing that, find anything that looks out of place. Something missing that ought to be there, something present that shouldn't. Particularly something that indicates someone else was there when he died. Once you're done there, hit up every potion vendor in the country. Find out who sold him the Mercyweed."

Devereaux nodded and Disapparated.

"What about us?" asked Ron.

Harry shrugged. "Paperwork, mate. Possible murder takes up more parchment than a sure suicide."

"Oh. I should have kept my bloody mouth shut."

* * *

><p>Facts came trickling in, like they usually did in these situations.<p>

First and worst, Devereaux confirmed the absence of any bottle in or near Doubleday's flat. This meant they'd probably have to come in on their weekends to solve the case. Devereaux also found that no licensed potion seller remembered selling Mercyweed to Doubleday, even after being given a picture of the deceased to examine and a time frame to focus on.

That was a warning bell. Harry's face got grimmer as Devereaux gave his report. The possibility of murder had come close to slipping past him.

No one at the Goblin Affairs desk where Doubleday worked had noticed any significant changes in him. No one saw any signs of sadness of depression. His supervisor had been shocked when Sam informed him of Doubleday's drinking. He was just one of those guys who inhabited the background of any scene you put him in- no close friends or lovers. He stopped short of being antisocial by being vaguely friendly in all his interactions, but things never developed past that.

His mother had died while he was still in Hogwarts, his father was a Muggle who lived away from the magical world. Doubleday used his holidays to visit him four times a year.

In contrast to Harry's increased suspicions, Ron was less and less sure that it was murder. By all signs, Doubleday was a midlife crisis waiting to happen. Maybe Doubleday had bought the bottle of Mercyweed ten years ago and put it in a cupboard and forgot all about it, then found it again that Halloween night. There might be some totally innocuous reason why the bottle was missing. Weirder things had happened.

The week passed slowly, grindingly, with no progress in any direction. Pressure came from the higher ups to stop wasting time on an obvious suicide and close the case. The week after that Harry closed it, ruling suicide. He didn't like it, but he did it. There were other fires to put out- Romanian smuggling rings, muggle baiting in Devonshire, Dark Mark graffiti in Knockturn Alley. He couldn't justify pursuing a stillborn case when manpower was needed elsewhere.

But Ron couldn't forget so easy. Something about the case stuck with him even as he directed his attention elsewhere. Perhaps it was the victim, who seemed to have lived such an unhappy life. Frank Doubleday had survived two wizarding wars and had landed in an insignificant job at a sideshow department. No friends and no close family. Ron had needed to earn his happy ending, and it hurt a little to imagine beating Voldemort and going home alone to live without Hermione and Harry and Ginny and his Mum and Dad...

Doubleday deserved justice. Assuming he had been murdered. Which he probably hadn't been.

But the case stuck with him.

* * *

><p>It was a chance comment on Christmas Eve that did it.<p>

He and Hermione were getting ready for a ball, a charity fundraiser she had organized in support of house elf liberation. She was stunning, as always. He was slightly unkempt, as always, and she was doing minor fix ups on him before setting out. Years of near poverty had left him without the proper instincts for proper dressing, at least by ballroom standards. Hermione seemed to have a knack for it.

She said, "Your Trimming spell is off, Ron, turn around and I'll get it."

"Hmm?" he grunted.

"The back of your hair," she said, halfway to exasperation. "The lines are crooked. I said you should have gone to see a professional hair stylist. I know you couldn't care less, and honestly, I couldn't care less either, but there's going to be a lot of important potential donors who probably do." She fixed it waved a twitch of her wand.

Ron froze. He spun on a heel and strode to the nearest mirror near the front door and stared at his reflection.

"Ron?"

He imagined himself with a low fade on the sides and long, wavy hair up top. He imagined needing to maintain that hair to blend in with muggles and wizards alike for when his holidays got closer.

"Ron? What's wrong?"

"The lines were crooked," he said. He could barely hear himself, like in a dream. "I couldn't see the back of my head to get the spell right."

"I took care of it already, Ron."

"Professional hair stylist," he said. "No one realized he was a depressed drunk because- oh, you sneaky son of a-" Ron realized Hermione was staring at him and stopped. He smiled bashfully, his cheeks blazing bright red.

Hermione cocked an eyebrow. "Are you alright?"

"Yes." It could wait till tomorrow. It wasn't Hogwarts anymore, where they felt the need to hare off the second they found a vital clue to a mystery. This ball could finance the end of the worst sentient rights violation in the world today, as Hermione had reminded him so often. Hermione would forgive him if he left now, but he had learned that one of the tricks to good marriages is to not intentionally do things that require forgiveness. "Yes. I just realized something, that's all. Work related. Come on, love, we'll be running late soon."

During the party Ron smiled when prompted and shook hands when prompted and made charming small talk when prompted. But underneath it all he was, like a general mapping out an invasion, planning how best to find the murderer. For her part, Hermione raised enough money that night to give every house elf in Magical Britain a golden wardrobe.

It was a lovely evening, over all.

* * *

><p>It didn't take long. It rarely did, once you knew what you're looking for.<p>

A simple trip to the records room allowed Ron to cross reference every licensed hair stylist with every known or suspected Dark wizard. That led to one Wallace McFormic, who, after the second war with Voldemort, had been convicted of selling information about Muggleborn refugees to Snatchers. An anonymous tip off had led to his arrest. He had been released from prison a year earlier and resumed his trade as a hairdresser in the more fashionable sections of Diagon Alley.

Once you had a name to work with you could find out almost everything. Like how Wallace McFormic had graduated with Frank Doubleday back in 1975. How none of his coworkers knew what he had been up to in the two month span between September and Halloween, when he had ceased almost all social contact with them. How he had no alibi for Halloween night. How he'd scored Outstanding on his potions exam at Hogwarts.

"We should have seen it sooner," Ron said. "Of all people, we had the least excuse." Harry and he were watching the records of McFormic's interrogation in the Pensieve. They were almost at the part where McFormic broke down in tears and confessed everything.

"He ruined me!" cried McFormic. "He ruined my life! And he thought I didn't know. He thought he had covered his tracks so well. He was the only one who would have finked on me. And then he had the gall to patronize me for haircuts! So he could visit his filthy Muggle father! He thought he was being so generous. 'Giving me a helping hand,' he called it, since I had just gotten out of prison. Like I needed his bloody charity. The filthy Mudblood _should _have killed himself, _would_ have killed himself if he had the least bit of self-respect." McFormic started sobbing. He knew where he heading next, because he had done it before.

Harry Potter nodded, his face cold and stony. Ron knew he was blaming himself bitterly for almost letting McFormic escape. Ron decided then and there to tell Ginny about the Halloween case, so she could smack Harry upside the head with common sense in next day or two. Otherwise his black mood might last for months.

"Polyjuice potion," Harry said. "Bloody genius."

"You save up a man's cut hair," Ron said, staring at the memory of the murderer. "You brew it up and go out in his skin. You start creating a story weeks in advance."

"You charm yourself safe and fake a suicide attempt at King's Crossing."

"You run up a tab in his name to make him look like a drunken sot."

"You measure how much Draught of the Living Death it would take to scare the Healers but still leave you alive."

"And then, on Halloween night, you feed the victim Mercyweed at wand point."

Harry shook his head. "And he would have gotten away with it, except he slipped the bottle into his pocket afterwards."

"Force of habit, I guess." Ron shrugged. "Cleaning up after yourself after you commit a crime. Taking away anything that you brought with you. I dunno. Wish Doubleday would have put his name on the report that sunk McFormic the first time around. Might have sped up the process a bit."

"You remember back then. No one was sure at first that Voldemort wasn't coming back for thirds. I guess he didn't want a paper trail catching up to him later."

"Well, I'm not blaming him."

Grey-blurred Aurors took Wallace McFormic away from the interrogation room, animated metal twisting around his wrists. They could still hear the echoes of McFormic's screams and curses as they exited the Pensieve.

"It's kind of appropriate, though," Harry mused. "A false-faced murderer on Halloween. You have to wonder if he planned it that way."

"The only thing I wonder is when that war will come to an end," Ron said.


	3. GGMK

**I think there is a monster under my bed**

**Author:** GGMK

**Fandom:** Digimon

**Claim:** Beelzemon

* * *

><p>"I think there is a monster under my bed."<p>

Impmon's ears perked, and he opened one eye, looking into the wide eyes of one of his tamers, Ai. The young girl, doll in hand, was staring at him as if she expected some great revelation to come from his mouth. But he had been napping! What kind of nugget of wisdom could he come up with?

"You mean a Digimon?" Impmon asked. What else could it be? Ai was pretty responsible, for a kid. If her younger brother, Mako, had come up to him spouting off about monsters and such, Impmon might have laughed. But Ai didn't tend to make up stories.

The young girl shook her pig-tailed hair. "No, Impmon! A real monster!"

Impmon wasn't sure how to proceed. How did one tell a "real monster" apart from a Digimon? Many Digimon looked fierce; heck, Impmon's Mega form, Beelzemon, looked like an evil angel/demon/biker gang member! Impmon also wasn't sure if he should be offended at not being a "real monster". Did that make him a fake monster?

"OK kiddo, what did this thing look like?" It was a reasonable question. Impmon already had a vague picture in his head, with fangs, claws, and glowing eyes. Of course, real life was never like the stereotypes. Ai shrugged, and looked at her shoes.

"W-well, I never actually saw it. But last night, I heard it growling. I was too scared to go to the bathroom! I wanted to ask you for help, but you weren't home!" Somehow, Ai's almost tearful voice made Impmon feel a smudge guilty. He tended to go for long walks at night, after the kids were supposed to be asleep.

The purple Digimon sighed. He knew what must have brought this along: that whole Halloween thing. All that talk of spooks and creepy-crawlies must have gotten to the kids.

Impmon grinned subconsciously as he realized that he was partially to blame. He liked telling scary stories to his two young tamers, until the kid's parents would have to ask him to stop.

"I'm sorry, Ai, but that ain't a lot of proof to go on," Impmon told her, trying not to sound like he was scolding her. Ai crossed her arms sulkily.

"Then ask Mako. He heard it too, he'll back me up."

"Um, no offense, but Mako isn't always the most believable kid, ya know?" From the way Ai giggled, it was pretty obvious she knew. She managed to compose herself when she realized that Impmon was tapping his small foot.

"OK, OK. But could you pleaaaasseeee stay with me tonight, in case the monster comes back? PLLLLEEEEAAASSSEEEEE?" How could he say no?

"Fine, fine," Impmon grumbled, turning around to get back to his nap now that he had given his answer. So he'd have to spend one night indoors, so what? He supposed it was for a good cause. And Halloween was the next day, so all this nonsense would be over in a flash.

That night, around 8 PM (which was the kid's bed time), Impmon climbed into bed next to Ai. It wasn't a bad arrangement at all, since he was the size of a plush doll anyway. There was more than enough space on the bed. Mako's slow breathing could be heard across the room. The two kids used to fight over who got to sleep with Impmon; the memories came back like a flood of nostalgia.

"Well, nighty-night," Impmon yawned, removing his yellow bandana and placing it on the bedside desk. Ai thumped him on the head.

"Yow! What da heck was dat for?" he demanded, rubbing his head. Ai pouted at him.

"You can't go to sleep! What if the scary creature comes out when you're dreaming? I'll be all alone," and her voice sounded so scared that Impmon knew he'd have to stay up. Oh boy…

The minutes ticked by, until they became hours. To a restless guy like Impmon, it was very boring. Boring, and pointless, as Impmon didn't believe that some monster would hide under a random kid's bed! It was dumb!

It was about an hour after Midnight when Impmon's ears perked, which happened when he heard a noise. But when he stopped to listen, he couldn't hear a thing. Mentally shrugging, Impmon decided he must have dreamed the noise, and turned over. But he heard it, a soft growling noise. And it didn't sound fake either!

Two small hands grasped him around the waist. Ai, who was obviously awake, was holding him tight enough he felt he'd explode.

"Impmon, I'm scared," she whispered. Impmon struggled.

"I know Ai, but I can't fight off any monsters if you're holding me like some throw pillow!" he whispered back angrily.

But there whispers weren't silent enough; as if it heard them talking, the creature, quick as a flash, dove from under the bed, and jumped (flew?) out the winder. It was fast and dark enough that they only saw a dark blur. Ai screamed, and Impmon, delayed a few moments as he struggled out of her grasp, transformed into his Mega state.

Spreading his death-black wings, Beelzemon flew out the window, intent on chasing down whatever creature would dare attack his Tamer. Unfortunately, the delay took its toll, as Beelzemon had no idea where to begin looking. A quick scan of the empty sky seemed to indicate that the mystery creature couldn't fly, but it also could have ducked out of sight somewhere.

Unfortunately, skilled as he was, following someone's scent was not something he could do. Letting a growl escape him, he decided to do a general sweep of the area, but not too far, in case that monster decided to try to sneak back in the window while he was out.

Hours later, dawn was approaching, and the only things Beelzemon had to show for all his work was one very frightened raccoon. The winged Digimon was not discouraged though. He knew the creature would return, and this time, he'd be ready!

As he walked back in the house, he shifted back into his smaller Impmon form. He could use a good breakfast, and then a nap. The kid's mother was already awake, and preparing to head to work. Impmon decided it was best not to mention last night.

"Tonight I'm going to be so busy. And the traffic will be a nightmare, what with this being Halloween and all," the mother was saying to whoever was on the other end of her cell phone. Amidst all the excitement, Impmon had forgotten today was Halloween.

He grinned. That's fine with me. If that stupid creature shows his ugly face again, tonight would be the perfect time to put him in his place!

The evening was mostly spent giving kids candy, whenever any of the brats would ring the doorbell. Ai and Mako even got to stay up a whole hour later, just for tonight. After that was over, Mako had already fallen asleep, and Ai looked pretty tired out herself.

Back in his larger Beelzemon form, which he had used as his "costume" for the trick r' treating earlier, he tucked Mako into bed, before standing guard over Ai's bed.

"Um…maybe you should stand near the door. It'll be hard for me to sleep with you staring at me like that," Ai ventured. Beelzemon stammered.

"I wasn't starting at you, dummy! I was trying to look intimidating. Fine, whatever," and with that, he sat near the door, wings wrapped around himself as to not take up too much space from the already packed room.

It was almost 2:00 in the morning before something happened. Beelzemon had been focused on Ai's bed, so when the creature slowly crawled from under Mako's bed, he almost missed it. With quick reaction time, Beelzemon grabbed the creature by it's….tentacles?

In his surprise, the creature managed to slip its way out of Beelzemon's fist, and crawled up the ceiling, staring down. Beelzemon recognized the creature, a virus Digimon called Keramon. Keramon were pesky Digimon who consumed data at an alarming rate.

Keramon resembled a floating, grinning head with large eyes. Underneath the round head was a bunch of tentacles, and two long, bony arms were attached to the head by the sides. Long ears that drooped down were the only feature that could be called "cute", but not in this case.

Keramon shook its head sideways, left and right, for a few moments, before becoming still. Beelzemon, wondering what that creature's game was, reached for it. When his claws were inches away from Keramon, the virus Digimon sped away, lightning quick, towards the window.

"Not this time, freak," Beelzemon growled, grabbing one of his large guns from the holster on his belt. He fired two shots at Keramon, who was able to dodge the bullets somehow, before giggling and crawling to the roof. Beelzemon jumped out the window, using an updraft to fly quickly after the virus.

He flew to the roof in time to see Keramon ducking in the chimney. Beelzemon grabbed the final strands of it's tentacles before they could vanish into the chimney, and yanked up. It was like pulling a vegetable out of the ground, only if the vegetable struggled like there was no tomorrow.

"Hold still, you pipsqueak!" Beelzemon scowled at the creature. The thing was so annoying! Beelzemon would be glad to be rid of it. He picked up his large gun again, pointing it at Keramon's head. One good, point blank blast should do it!

Just as he blasted, a bright light engulfed Keramon, forcing Belzemon to cover his three eyes. When he uncovered them, Keramon was gone. In his place…was Diaboromon!

"No! He Digivolved! Just my luck!" Diaboromon was one of the fiercest Digimon out there! Unlike Keramon, Diaboromon had a full body, shaped like a spider. The fact that it didn't really talk was also pretty creepy.

Beelzemon knew he couldn't mess around anymore. Instead of a gun, he materialized a large cannon.

"Corona Blaster!" Beelzemon cried, as he fired a large pink energy blast, illuminating the dark knight. Diaboromon easily dodged the blast, however, and tackled Beelzemon into the backyard.

Diaboromon's arms were slowly squeezing the air out of Beelzemon, and since the fall had knocked some wind out of him already, Beelzemon was not having an easy time of it.

"G-get off me," he wheezed. Diaboromon only squeezed tighter.

_Swell_, thought Beelzemon groggily. _I'm about to be boa constricted by a spider on Halloween. I'll never laugh at another spooky tale if I get out of this!_

Still, he wasn't one to give up, and he had an ace in the hole for this kind of situation. Beelzemon, with the last remaining oxygen he had, whistled loudly. At first, nothing seemed to happen, and Beelzemon began to black out.

But the rumbling of an engine brought him back, and he grinned. Diaboromon also raised it's head, turning towards a bright headlight that shined on its face. The light, which was connected to a large, metallic motorcycle, rammed into Diaboromon.

"Yeah!" Beelzemon cheered. Behemoth, his sentient motorcycle, never let him down. Hopefully, that hit had turned Diaboromon into road kill.

Buuuuut no such luck! Diaboromon, looking frazzled, but not seriously injured, fired a blast of it's own at Behemoth. Behemoth swerved and used some fancy maneuvers to evade the blast, which had spread out into smaller blasts. While Behemoth managed to dodge these energy beams, Beelzemon picked his cannon back up, and fired at Diaboromon.

"Got you, you sunnuva gun," Beelzemon said triumphantly as his blast hit the mark. Diaboromon let out a pained roar, but Beelzemon kept firing, one after another.

Beelzemon only stopped when his cannon seemingly ran out of ammo. Well, the bug was probably squashed anyway, so to speak, so –

And Diaboromon, more bone than skin, lunged at Beelzemon, and bit him on the neck. Beelzemon, too shocked to cry out, clawed at the spider, but Diaboromon held on tight. In a near-panic, Beelzemon flew high, higher than he had ever flown in the human world. In a daze, his mind reminded of that silly Icarus legend his tamers told him about.

Oh. Heat! Bugs hate heat!

When Beelzemon flew as high as he could, he began to descend, at first slowly, than faster, headfirst, hoping that would make him more aerodynamic. As he went faster and faster, the air around him began to heat up more and more.

This time, it was Diaboromon who tried to leave, but Beelzemon held on to him. He wouldn't want Diaboromon to miss the show. The heat began to singe Beelzemon, but it was worth it. Diaborormon was slowly melting, skin and who knows what sliding off. When they landed at some empty park, Diaboromon was nothing but flakes and burnt meat.

The next morning, Ai and Mako came down for breakfast yawning and wiping their sleepy eyes.

"Morning, guys," Impmon said cheerfully, eating a bunch of candy. Ai and Mako cried out.

"Impmon, that's our candy!" Impmon shook a gloved finger at them.

"Yeah, but after all da trouble I went through to fend off that monster, I deserve a prize, doncha think?"

The kids didn't agree, and the next few minutes were spent arguing about who deserved what. But….that was nice. Normal was nice and good. Halloween was officially over, and Impmon was glad.

Well, until next Halloween anyway.


	4. Guile Mustang

**Knife**

**Author:** Guile Mustang

**Fandom:** Chrono Cross

**Claim:** Guile

* * *

><p><em>If you were a magician, why would you bother using a knife to carve a pumpkin? That tool was primitive when compared to magic.<em>

Most mages always thought like that. Knives were not a tool for magicians; instead, magic would suffice for them to complete their tasks.

_Screw that._

For Guile, sometimes a knife could do what magic couldn't for a mage. A knife could damage the pumpkin and injure his fingers, while magic couldn't unless he deliberately made a mistake.

_Using magic to carve a pumpkin was no challenge for a mage, even if you had handicapped yourself._

He always considered working with a knife as a game in which one had to concentrate hard. One wrong move and he would ruin his attempt to carve a Jack-O-Lantern or slit his own fingers. If he were unlucky, he would end up doing both at once.

_Why would I bother worrying about the risk? It was what that made it fun._

With a smile, he moved the knife to the right, slicing through the flesh of the hollow pumpkin. Maneuvering the blade along the lines he had drawn on the surface of the fruit killed his boredom.


	5. rhinosgirl

**The Halloween Man**

**Author: **rhinosgirl

**Fandom:** NCIS

**Claim: **Ducky

* * *

><p>Doctor Donald Mallard, Medical Examiner, paused on the front doorstep of the house he was visiting. An affectionate smile flitted across his face as he briefly listened to the cacophony emanating from inside before he rang the doorbell.<p>

"Timmy! Can you answer the door, please." Leroy Jethro Gibbs poked his head out the kitchen door to address his four- year-old son. The youngster eagerly ran to the door, and halled it open. "Ducky!" he squealed excitedly, jumping up and down in the doorway. "I'm riding Tony, come see! Come see!"

That explains the barnyard noises, Ducky thought amusedly. "Hello, wee 'un!" He greeted the boy cheerfully as he mussed the sandy hair of his young charge.

"Eeek!" Timmy yelped as something freezing pressed against his cheek.

Ducky chuckled and moved his hand away. "Sorry, Timmy. Do you want to carry that bag in for me? We'll take this food to your Daddy and then we can go and find your horsey," he grinned.

"Sure," Tim agreed. The bag was carefully transferred into his little hands, and then Ducky followed Timmy, allowing himself to be led into the kitchen. Once there, they deposited a steaming hot dish of apple and rhubarb crumble onto the bench, and a large container of vanilla ice-cream into the freezer. Gibbs rose from turning the roast vegetables in the oven, and Abby Sciuto looked up from tossing the coleslaw. They quickly exchanged greetings with their friend and colleague before Ducky was unceremoniously pulled into the living room. There he spent an enjoyable evening being entertained by Timmy and his horsey, the one and only Anthony DiNozzo Junior, before Abby appeared to call them to dinner.

Talk quickly turned to the following week's Neighbourhood Party. Held each year on October 31st, it was a major event in the local community, timed specifically to allow children of certain ages to be home by bedtime, and meticulously planned out to become progressively scarier as the night went on and the participants got older.

"What are you going to be dressed up as, young Timothy?" Ducky enquired of Timmy, who glared at him and pointed to his mouth.

"Oh. I am sorry, I should know better than to ask you such an important question when your mouth is full," Ducky apologised.

"Yes, you should, especially when it is as yummy as Abby's coleslaw!" Timmy asserted aggrievedly when his mouth was empty a few seconds later, but his grievance was quickly forgotten as he answered the question. "I am going as Sir Lancelot, just like that story you told me! Abby's going to make me a mask that fits over my _whole_ _head_, and Dad's going to make me a sword, not a real one though, because I don't want to hurt anybody, and I'm going to wear my Superman cape because it's red, and I'm going to have _two _horsies," he waved his whole arm enthusiastically between his Dad and Tony, "so I can ride Tony when Dad gets tired, and I can ride Dad when Tony gets tired!"

"That sounds like a marvellous idea," Ducky praised, valiantly holding in a chortle as he ignored the glowers of the other two men. "And as the brave Sir Lancelot, have you chosen what colours your horsies are going to be?"

Timmy sucked on his cheek, a sure sign he was deep in thought. "I like black horsies best, so that can be Dad, but I think white horsies run faster, so that can be Tony," he decided.

"Does that mean you like your Dad better than you like me?" Tony batted his eyelashes at Timmy and poked his lower lip out in a mock pout.

"I have to, I live with him," Timmy stated gravely.

A ripple of laughter went around the table as Timmy started clearing the dinner plates so dessert could be served. When he came back empty-handed from the kitchen, he had a troubled look on his face.

"What is the matter?" Ducky asked him gently, thinking something had gone awry with the dishes.

"My Dad horsey needs a pretty black mane and long black tail, and my Tony horsey needs a pretty white mane and long white tail. Can you do that, guys?" he inquired of his 'horsies' seriously.

"Of course they can," Ducky reassured him, much to the consternation of the other men. From there the rest of the night went smoothly, and finally the group dispersed, only to reconvene on the day of the party to complete their preparations.

"Hello, wee 'un!" Ducky paused in the hallway of the Gibbs home to admire Timmy's Sir Lancelot costume (currently consisting of light grey tights and a light grey t-shirt with dark grey wool sewn onto the front at semi-regular intervals, which drooped in curves that the Doctor surmised were supposed to represent chain mail). A long woollen tail hung down Timmy's left leg, and trailed on the floor, nearly tripping the child up as he hopped up and down on the spot. "You look extremely dashing, young sir. Is Abby helping you with your costume?"

Timmy nodded enthusiastically. "She's just got to finish putting this stuff on the front, then I'll put on my cape and boots and hop on my horsey."

"Oh, yes, your horsies," the older man nodded sagely. "I've got something in my bag for them, so shall we go find them?"

"Is it ice cream?" Timmy asked excitedly while leading the way to where all the fun was happening.

Ducky surveyed the chaotic scene before him: In the absence of Sir Lancelot, Abby was busy adjusting the holes in the white horse mask amid cries of "Has anybody seen Timmy's socks?" and "Hey, that's my eyelid!", Gibbs was rear-end up foraging under the sofa, and Tony was dancing a poor imitation of an Irish jig while hiding his face in his hands and cursing his tormentor.

"No, it's something your horsies need even more than ice cream," Ducky said, pulling out two table runners with tassels along the sides and two string mops without the handles. One of each item was white and one of each item was black.

"Manes and tails!" Timmy screeched in delight.

"Ow!" Gibbs rubbed his head where it had connected with the underside of the sofa. He sat up, holding the missing socks in one hand, and scowled at the visitor, who simply smiled and stared blandly back.

"Daddy! Tony! Now you will look like real horsies!" Timmy's eyes shone animatedly, handing the black ones to Dad and the white ones to Tony.

Eventually, Sir Lancelot and his two horsies were ready to go, and it wasn't long before they were joined by one other than The Lady Of The Lake.

"Oh, wow, Abby! You're really pretty!" Tim enthused.

"Why, thank you, sweetie," Abby replied. "Are we all ready to go?"

"YES!" Tony, Gibbs, and Timmy crowed together, and the happy group went out into the cool fall air.

"Aren't you coming?" Timmy asked Ducky, when he realised the older man was heading toward his car, not the neighbour's house.

"No," replied the elderly gentleman with a gentle smile. "I have to get home and feed Perseus and Damocles."

"They're only dogs, they can wait. You have to come!" Timmy protested, pulling on Ducky's jacket.

"There will be plenty of other people there," Ducky tried to soothe the distraught boy. "Many of your friends will be there, and you will play fun games, and bring home a lot of candy to eat."

Timmy would not be appeased, however. "But it is your party! You have to come!"

Ducky was confused. "Why is it my party, Timothy?" he enquired.

Now it was Timmy's turn to look confused. The party was held every year, so surely Ducky knew it was for him? His eyes filled with tears as he realised he must have just spoilt a great surprise and now he was scared he would get into trouble.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything," he whispered. "Can we go back inside, please?" He moved toward the door, but his Dad stopped him and picked him up into gentle but firm arms.

"You're not in trouble," he reassured his son as he wiped the tears away. "But you know that at this party tonight, you and all your young friends are going to be there. They don't even know Ducky, so why would they come to a party for him?"

Timmy shrugged despondently.

Ducky came over and softly rubbed the boy's armour-clad arms. "It's just that I don't know why you think the Halloween Party is for me," Ducky pressed. "Can you explain that to me?"

"'Cause you're the Halloween Man!" was the unexpected answer.

"And how is that, young Timothy?" Ducky was more than willing to allow the pre-schooler to clarify himself, no matter how long it took. And the others just looked on curiously, waiting to hear their four-year-old's logic.

"'Cause that's what you always say!" Timmy declared. "Every time you see me, you say –"

"Hello, wee 'un!" the adults chorused joyfully and Timothy Gibbs joined in the glee, thankful he was obviously not in trouble, and finally ready to party the night away.


	6. reminiscent-afterthought

**Festival for the Demons**

**Author**: reminiscent-afterthought

**Fandom**: Kakurenbo

**Claim**: Oshira-sama

* * *

><p>Tokyo had been abandoned for many years, and the lights had dimmed to almost nothingness. Maybe people became complacent upon seeing that. The old stories became less and less common, and less believed. They began to scoff at the idea of demons inhabiting Tokyo, and sweeping their children into a terrible game of hide and seek in the night to keep those lights shining bright. People began to stop spreading the tale, and stopped running away.<p>

Ten years, then twenty, and the villages outside the city began to fill with people again. Because that was untouched land. Crops grew well. There was little damage, little pollution. The perfect place to start their lives anew –

Except for the demons that still lived within the heart of Tokyo, waiting for children to come close again, so they could revitalise those lights. They had only scraps of children for the last twenty years: children forgotten by the rest of the world, and never attributed to those tales that had surrounded them before. It was foolish, the demons whispered amongst themselves. But that foolishness would help them eventually, if they were patient.

And they could live for many more years before the lack of sustenance would drain their energy. So they waited. And eventually the towns began to fill up again. Oshira-sama stepped down from his town and put on his mask and the body of the last child that had won their little game, and stepped out. The body was frail, battered viciously by the wind of the new outside, but it was still a child and preserved all those years for this very purpose.

And he started calling the children to play in the city again. They came, naively and willingly, not knowing what awaited them. They put on masks like he bid – those old traditions that it seemed the humans had taken to one of their own festivals. And they crept through the small gap in the gates of the city and walked in with the most frightening masks they could produce.

Oshira-sama followed them in his little girl body, listening to them talk about "Obon" and "Halloween" and "what a cook haunted house it is" and finding himself growing more and more amused. They thought it was a game. The fear of children they'd played with in the time that had passed had not been bred in them. They ran about as if it were a festival – and even tried to take Kimotori's wheel.

Oshira-sama laughed heartily at the sight, especially when Kimotori's three arms and four legs, all red, grabbed his wheel and spun it. There was the screams of the children, when that one who'd grabbed at the wheel had his limbs torn and splayed on the dusty streets.

Now the real game of hide and seek began.

The remaining children scattered. Kimotori grabbed the bleeding, limbless one and dragged him to the battery tower. The first of many more who would power their city lights again, and create their paradise. Oshira-sama, still dressed the part of the child, followed. He watched the lights grew a little brighter – enough for their brethren to stir in excitement and trample on to the streets. And they scattered after the children who were running in all directions, wild with fear. The rest of them would produce far greater energy through that fear.

He watched the Aburatori twins wander off, one pulling the cart slowly and the other lounging leisurely atop it. He watched Kotori scramble up a building with her eight legs. He watched Chitori wrap his favourite tarp around himself before creeping off into the darkness – and Oshira-sama laughed and followed happily, white dress of his child body flapping around his knees.

He watched as Chitori caught up with a fleeing pair and spooked them, causing them to scream and scatter. Chitori followed one, and Oshira-sama followed Chitori. He wasn't a player after all. He was the king who took the prize and that was all.

Chitori finally caught his prey, swooping him up in the tarp and dragging the bundle up the battery tower, bones banging on each step. And then he unwrapped his parcel and the boy had cracked his skull at some point. Intentional of course, because those lesser demons didn't need a body to possess and the battery tower didn't need a life. And then they fitted him in place and leached power from him.

The streets brightened further, and Oshira-sama caught up to Kotori who was spinning her webs along the eastern streets and catching her prey in it. One child had brought a pumpkin with a candle and was trying to burn herself free – but Kotori was not a spider and her webs weren't spider webs. They were only spider-like. The fire did nothing but tickle her and add to the glorious light. One child, two child – and the one Chitori sent screaming stumbled into that web as well, giving Kotori three.

She wrapped them lovingly in cocoons that covered and blocked everything and dragged them, one by one, up the tower. The light grew even brighter.

And then Oshira-sama left her recreating her silk and scaled down the tower to catch up to the Aburatori twins, who'd cornered the remaining two children. They'd heard all the other screams and were at the peak of terror – but the Aburatori twins had heard the screams well. And they knew one of those two had to win.

Oshira-sama stepped in between them. 'Close your eyes and count to ten,' he said cheerfully, voice mimicking the girl whose body he wore.

The twins parted. The two remaining children scattered and the twins picked the one heading away from the battery tower and took up chase again. Oshira-sama followed the other one. The winner had been decided after all – and, sure enough, the both of them heard the scream of the last captured one as the lights brightened to the intensity they'd been twenty years ago.

'Help,' the last boy whimpered, clutching his plastic scythe as though it would be of some use still. But it wouldn't. Nor would real scythes. It might cut down the body he wore, but not his spirit: not his true form. 'If this is a bad Halloween joke from someone, quit it already.'

'It's a game,' Oshira-sama said in his human, girl, voice. 'The game of hide and seek.' He lifted his hands up, unhooking the elastic that held the mask behind his ears. 'Now count to ten…' The mask fell, and his eyes, his _real_ eyes and not the body he'd been wearing till just moments before, bore through the boy's mask and gorged out his soul. '…and let's play again!'


	7. Igenlode Wordsmith

**The Paths of the Living**

**Author:** Igenlode Wordsmith

**Fandom:** Gone with the Wind

**Claim:** Charles Hamilton

* * *

><p>October 31st, 1864<p>

There were no boys left in the South.

Of all the things that were so wrong — so very wrong — about that moment on All Hallows' Eve when Charles Hamilton came again to her, standing hesitant in the doorway, somehow it was that thought which caught first in Scarlett's weary mind.

There were no boys left in the South any more; only old men of sixteen or seventeen, grey-faced and haggard as the Cause that had drained the youth of a nation. And she herself was no longer the child she'd been when he'd married her. That pretty, heartless kitten was gone, and a scrawny half-starved creature stalked in her place, glaring through cat-green eyes. But Charles at twenty was still a boy, as unformed and innocent as the day he had left her... and as unchanged.

If she had been asked that morning to bring his face to mind, though, she did not think she could have done it. She had long since forgotten her husband of a week, her suitor of two weeks, and if ever she glimpsed him in little Wade Hampton it was only with irritation.

She did not know what had made her look up from her needle in the flickering light that made her eyes ache, for all she was driving ragged stitches through sackcloth in place of fine embroidery by the fire. The darkies were in bed, the sick girls were asleep, and she could have sworn she'd heard no sound.

It must have been some sixth sense then that brought her head up from her mending to see him, so impossibly young in his fever-damp shirt with the flush of it still on his cheeks... and hovering thus on the threshold he was so very much Charles that it never occurred to her to doubt him, though he could not have been there.

For he was dead, of course. Somehow it never occurred to her to doubt that either. He'd left that sick-bed for the grave three years back... and hadn't Gerald O'Hara told his small girls time and time again the tales of the old country, of how the dead walk the paths of the living this one night?

Charles knew it too, Scarlett thought in the strange numb acceptance that seemed to have come over her — or at least he suspected it. His great brown eyes held the same lost, frightened look she had seen so often in Wade; and it was more than just shyness that sent his gaze roaming away from her face across the changed, threadbare walls of Tara.

"I—" He abandoned his clutch on the door-jamb and came haltingly towards her, as if every step across the wide room was an effort of will. "I shouldn't be here. I think— I think I was dreaming. There's some mistake. Scarlett, it's a dream, isn't it?"

But there was a sharp bead of pain in her hand that was no dream, where the needle had drawn blood unheeded, and the firelight threw living shadows across his shirt as he came closer. Scarlett waited to see him grow transparent and vanish; waited for the chill of fear that must surely arrive. All she could find in herself was frustration at one more burden laden onto her shoulders... for what was this but another unasked responsibility, another helpless waverer come to cling onto her skirts now that her mother was dead?

_Why me?_ she flung at him silently. _Why not Melanie? She loved you. I never did. Why do you have to come to me?_

But Melanie upstairs was cold and white and maybe on her own road to the grave, and she, Scarlett, had all the strength of her own furious will — the strength that drove the others in the thankless battle to hold Tara together — and there was no ghostly menace in the Charles before her now; only the answer to her question laid bare in his eyes. Only the trusting, unwanted ardour that had brought him here on this night out of whatever far place he had been wandering.

He mustn't find out. Some deep instinct told her that, and she let fall her sewing, unconsciously squaring her shoulders. Whatever he saw when he looked at her, it wasn't the bitter, ragged creature she had become; and for her own sake, for the sake of Tara's future, this thing out of her past must not be allowed to understand what those years had done to her and to the place she loved. Nothing but ill could come of it.

Scarlett sprang to her feet in decision, holding out a hand to take the uncertain grasp Charles had put out towards her. She could manage men, couldn't she? She'd certainly been able to handle this husband of hers; why, he wouldn't have _been_ her husband if she hadn't put it into his mooncalf head for him. Why should he be any different... now?

Her heart quailed a moment at that final reflection, and she steeled herself for clammy chill at his touch... or worse, the instant when his outstretched hand would meet hers — and slide on through with spectral ease, like some headless haunt that walked through walls. Without knowing it, she had shut her eyes.

But the grip that found hers was hot and a little damp, clinging with a feverish intensity that threatened to crush her fingers, and she tugged loose with all the old familiar irritation. "Goodness' sake, Charles, don't squeeze so hard — I guess a man never knows his own strength."

Call this a man? She found herself measuring him against Rhett Butler's broad shoulders — no, Ashley's lithe strength — with contempt she could scarcely hide: but the touch of flattery worked its old trick, and when she gave him her hand again it was a boy's confiding clasp that closed around it in answer and not that panic-stricken clutch.

"Scarlett..." It was barely a breath. "You're here."

"Of course I'm here." She bit back words with an effort, pulling him over towards the old couch with its worn covers; never had she been so grateful for the flickering light. Beneath the flush in his cheeks he was pale, and she wondered that he could still stand. What would happen if he passed out? _Could_ the dead pass out — or would he just vanish again as if he'd never been? Hope sprang within her at the idea.

She tried to remember what endearments she'd found for him during their brief marriage. Had she ever used any? She really couldn't recall.

"Dear"—that had to be safe—"you need to lie down. You've been ill. There's been some kind of mistake. We'll get you back where you belong. Just... just lie down here — that's right—"

She piled cushions behind his head and brushed back tumbling curls — cropped closer now than when she'd last seen him — from his brow. "That's right. It was a dream. Be sure and lie quiet, now, and it'll all be right in the morning."

"Don't — don't go." He caught at her fingers where her wedding ring should have been, and she pulled away sharply, afraid he would detect the absence. That heavy gold band had gone long since into Confederate coffers, one more heroic sacrifice... like that of her new-wedded groom. And if she'd had a choice, Scarlett thought bitterly, shocking even herself, if one of the two were to come back to her like this, she would rather it had been the gold.

"Don't go," Charles pleaded again, trying to sit up, and she coaxed him down again with hard-won patience.

"Where would I go, you silly thing? I'm sitting right here — see? I'll be with you all along... close your eyes, now, take some rest..."

She leaned forward and kissed him lightly with an odd superstitious shrinking, and saw with relief how the heavy lids began to drift downward again, reassured, as she drew back. His lips had parted slightly on a long indrawn breath; they curved upwards now in a smile that echoed the glimpse of unshadowed adoration in his face, and Scarlett turned away, feeling bile burn at the back of her throat.

Whatever he saw when he looked at her that way, it wasn't her. It had never been her. It couldn't be her, not now, not if Tara were to survive. And he was a poor weak thing for believing in it...

The fire was burning low, and there was no point in wasting more cordwood. Scarlett picked up her sewing again impatiently, set a few more crooked stitches more by feel than by sight, and let the work drop to her lap as she glanced across at Charles.

If he was still here in the morning — if this crazy night of ghosts had inflicted an honest-to-God miracle on her — then by all that was holy, she swore she'd scream aloud. The dead belonged dead, and there was no getting away from it. And if she had to feed another useless mouth, she thought she would just about choke.

He'd talked loud enough to start with about mistakes and how he shouldn't be here. It would be just like Charles Hamilton, Scarlett thought, to cling on where he wasn't wanted...

The long lashes were lying quiet now on his cheeks and he looked younger than ever in the firelight. He might have been an echo of all those hopeful boys who'd gone off to war, in quest of a cause that vanished like smoke between the fingers of those who grasped for it.

Her heart turned over oddly, bitterness forgotten, and she reached out on impulse to touch his hand. But between one moment and another an ember flared in the fireplace and he was gone; gone like the flame as it winked out. Gone over the border back into sleep, and whatever fever dream had gone awry on All Saints' Night to bring him here.

Scarlett froze, hand still outstretched, and for the first time felt a helpless chill at her back. It was as if she hadn't really believed — until now.

Then the piled cushions slipped downwards in almost soundless witness, lying tumbled across an empty couch. The covers still held the faint hollow where her husband had lain, and she stared at the shadowed imprint that was a testament to the impossible.

Impossible? She bit her lip abruptly, fighting back tears. And wasn't their whole situation here at Tara impossible? Wasn't it enough that she must slave like a field-hand, scrub and mend and nurse till her back ached and her fingers split, bully and scold and drive until she became hateful even to herself, to keep them all from starving?

The one thing — the one impossible thing — she would have given the world to have back was her mother's calm voice and strength to share this unbearable load; her mother's arms to hold her and her mother's love in which to hide. But Ellen was dead, dead and gone, calling after lost Philippe into a darkness from before her daughter had even been born. Scarlett had armoured herself against that loss in the knowledge that she had no choice.

Now she knew in one piercing moment that there had been a choice: that the dead could come for comfort to seek the living.

The warning instinct to keep the past from knowledge of the present was forgotten. Impatience and haste and fear were forgotten. Scarlett knew only that a door had opened, that she had been crying out for unconditional love and it had not been Ellen who came.

She dropped to her knees in the fire's last glow, burying her face in the empty couch and beating on it with her hands in a paroxysm of weeping as if Charles had still been there. How dared he — how dared he come to her so? How dared Mother leave her alone when she needed her so much?

The first fury passed, and she lay sobbing in the dark. Charles had cradled her once with awkward caresses and clumsy comfort, helpless to understand. But Tara's halls were empty around her now on All Hallows' Night and she knew somehow that this time would not come again.

The door had closed, and the dead could do nothing to aid her. There was no-one to help her bear this yoke: no shoulder for exhausted tears. She had not even the warmth of contempt for Charles and his blind devotion.

_Oh Mother, Mother—_

Chilled and alone in the parlour, Scarlett drifted into a huddled sleep, her eyelashes still wet. When the morning's stiff reckoning came, she would tell herself she had nodded off over her mending.

Soon enough she would even believe it. Gerald's tales had been for children, after all. And the alternative... did not bear remembering.


	8. Scorp

**Masquerade**

**Author:** Scorp

**Fandom:** Arrow (TV)

**Claim:** Slade Wilson

* * *

><p>Oh, she so wanted to make him proud.<p>

However, the luxury penthouse they occupied on the top floor of a high rise in one of Starling's ritzy uptown neighborhoods was filled almost to the rafters with masked figures, many of whom Sienna had never met. Most, she assumed, were members of Starling's rich and powerful sect. They were the people that Slade's puppet, Sebastian Blood (whom Sienna considered to be no better than a slimy worm), needed to court in order to secure his position as the city's next mayor.

To the majority of these faceless people, Slade Wilson was nothing more than a dashing, charming businessman. To the men, Slade was an articulate and sophisticated man they wanted to befriend, to do business with. Ah, but to the women, though? To the women he was this animalistic enigma they wanted to figure out, and tame. So what if he stood accused of kidnapping Thea Queen? In their minds, if the charges had held any _serious_ merit, well, he'd clearly still be behind bars. Besides, a good many of them had skeletons in their own closets. It wasn't like they could castigate Slade for what to them would only amount to a _small_ lapse in judgment.

To those in his employ, however, he was the man behind what was an elaborate revenge plot. He was the one giving the orders, opening the doors, setting the wheels of what he planned into motion. Even with his private war against Oliver Queen in full swing, there was a need to maintain appearances. That was why Slade had requested she plan this Ball. The image that he projected to the world kept it from discovering just what he had planned for Starling's prodigal son. She didn't know what had happened to turn Mr. Queen and Slade into enemies. It wasn't a topic that Slade openly discussed and she was far too much of a coward to actually question him about it. _But I will ask him just as soon as things settle down again_, she promised herself.

Sienna swallowed a sigh as she searched the room for her one-eyed bandit. The masquerade was barely getting underway and yet she could see that a great many of the guests her... _Slade_, she corrected quickly. She wasn't _quite_ ready to call Slade Wilson her _boyfriend_, even in the privacy of her own thoughts. Not that they weren't involved as a couple, because it was more than obvious to her (and everyone else) that they were. And it wasn't because she questioned her role in Slade's life. She was quite aware that to him, as well as to the world at large, she was the Queen of his vast empire.

Even if she didn't _always_ feel like she was Mistress of his Keep.

Most of the guests, she saw as she slowly glanced around, were congregated in small clusters at the edges of the makeshift dance floor. A small crowd was twirling to Tchaikovsky's _Swan Lake, Op, 20 (Lake In the Moonlight)_, their brightly colored masks almost as extravagant as the jewels and costumes they were wearing. People had already been lining up in the dining room in order to partake of the refreshments being laid out when she'd passed a few minutes ago. A quick glance showed her that even more were taking advantage of the full service bar that had been set up out on the balcony.

She was surrounded by a cornucopia of people.

_Damnation_, she thought as she reached up to finger the huge blood red stone nestled between her breasts. _There are more people here than I anticipated there'd be_. She was half tempted to just scurry back to the relative safety of her private bedroom suite and say the hell with the Ball. Slade knew she still got anxious in crowds, he'd understand why she couldn't attend. _Oh, but I so want to make him proud_.

No, what she _really_ wanted was for Slade to suddenly appear at her side, tuck her hand into the crook of his arm and escort her into the ballroom. Sienna pushed that fanciful thought aside. She had to do this without her sinfully handsome pirate to hold onto. Her anxiety was not something she could easily put aside. Not when the familiar bands of panic were already starting to wrap themselves around her chest and cinch tight. She chewed on her bottom lip, struggling to work up the courage necessary to take the final steps that would lead her into the sea of masked strangers.

Almost as if he'd been conjured up by some sort of magic spell, Slade appeared at her side, a devastating smile curving his full lips. "Hello, little one."

"Slade." The stark relief she heard in her voice sickened her. Still… "I'm so glad you're here."

"I have always been there when you have needed me, have I not?"

"Yes." She nodded. "Of course you have been."

"Then you knew I would be here now."

She saw his eye sweep her then, appreciation and something darker, hungrier burning in its depth that absolutely stole what little breath she was managing to draw in. The primal hunger shimmering in that obsidian depth left her knees wobbly, her mouth dry and her pulse bucking more than a wild Mustang.

"You look beautiful, love."

Sienna shivered as her belly coiled into those achingly hot knots it always did whenever he spoke in that low, throaty baritone. "Considering how _you_ chose my costume?" Her lips curled delicately at the corners. "I would hope that you are pleased with how it turned out."

"I am more than pleased."

Sienna had to admit that she was pleased with how her costumed had turned out. At first she'd been flabbergasted when he'd presented her with the mask and gown that afternoon, not understanding the reasoning behind his choice in costume at all. The dress had flowed over his arm in a waterfall of sequins and beads the color of fire and ice. Once she'd dressed, though, she'd understood exactly why Slade had chosen this particular costume for her. The woman looking back at her in the full length mirror had glowed with heat and pulsated with coldness. She was the fire Maiden and the ice Queen.

And both sides of her were _his_.

Same as both sides of this man were hers. She accepted that Slade was both mercenary and liberator. _It's why I chose for him to dress as a pirate tonight_, she thought, surreptitiously studying him. Slade's profile wasn't perfect. There were streaks of silver in his dark hair and goatee. His nose was straight, the nostrils slightly flared, his swarthy face smooth except for a few faint lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth. He was a man who could smile cruelly, or sensually. He hadn't shaved that evening, and the shadow of stubble along his jaw and over those angular cheeks turned what was already an arresting face into something edgy. Powerful. _Beautiful_.

She opened her mouth, intending to commend him on at least adhering to the costume part of the masquerade when a man dressed as the Phantom from the _Phantom of the Opera_ shoved by her. Sienna jumped and let out a tiny squeak. Slade snagged her hand and drew her towards him.

"Relax, love."

"There are a lot more people here than I'd anticipated," she finally twittered once her heart left her throat. "I didn't think there would be so many who'd show up at once. I'm not sure I..." her voice trailed off into a sigh full of both nerves and frustration. _I didn't use to be this much of a coward_, she thought bitterly. _I didn't use to be afraid of walking into a room full of masked strangers_.

No, once upon a time Sienna had been one of Gotham's reigning socialites. That woman wouldn't have been afraid to make a grand entrance (the grander the better, in fact) at this Masquerade Ball. That woman used to go to parties like this all the time. That woman had never once feared that someone was lurking in the shadows who could mean her harm. That woman wouldn't look at a dizzying array of masked faces and wonder if one of them meant to sell her on the black market.

No, that woman would have just boldly sashayed into the ballroom with a mysterious smile curving her glossy lips. That woman would have boldly engaged these strangers (men as well as women) in conversation without feeling as if she was going to throw up the moment she opened her mouth. That woman would have been flirtatious, playful, and fearless. She'd have melted against this man and lifted her mouth for his kiss, uncaring about who was watching or might have disapproved of such a wanton display.

Ah, but that woman had been kidnapped while leaving a club in Miami a little over two years ago. That woman's whole world, as well as everything in it, had come screeching to a halt the second three masked men grabbed her and hustled her, kicking and screaming into a van. That woman had been drugged, molested, tormented before almost being sold to a group of masked figures. That woman who'd once been known as Gotham's Ice Princess, ceased to exist.

The first month of her ordeal had been a blur. Sienna had been kept in a suspended state of animation- neither alive, nor dead. Her first semi-clear memory was waking up in that underground auction house in St. Petersburg just moments before they'd interjected her with god knew what and pushed her out onto a stage. The memories rose up, images superimposing themselves over sights and smells. Reality blurred and time ticked to a crawl as she again saw herself stumbling around amidst a sea of blank faces. Her stomach began to coil into greasy knots and her mouth filled with saliva. She knew she was going to be sick if she didn't get the hell out of there and fast. God, she was a damned fool for thinking she could handle attending this Ball.

"Sienna?" she heard Slade saying in a distorted voice. "Can you hear me, love?"

Could she enter that ballroom, he meant. Her answer to that...

"I don't think I can do this, Slade," she croaked out around the ball lodged in her throat. "I'm sorry..."

"Look at me," Slade's husky timbre rolled over her hypersensitive senses, supercharging them even more than they already were. Only when she focused her eyes upon his did he ask, "What are you afraid will happen if you walk into that ballroom?"

She was panting with the effort to not lose the contents of her stomach. "Right now? My greatest fear is that I will embarrass you by throwing up all over you."

His face softened and he reached up to cup her cheek in the palm of his hand. "You are letting your panic defeat you, love. And what have I told you about letting your panic rule you?"

Sienna closed her eyes and turned her face into his palm, absorbing the wondrous feeling of his rough skin upon hers. The sensation was heady, intoxicating. The ugly things shouting at her scurried to the back of her mind with low, moist hisses.

"Don't let it?" she finally managed to rasp.

He nodded. "So what should you do about it?"

A voice in the back of her head whispered a logical response to that question: _run like hell_. But her automatic mouth had her reply, "Remind myself that I am with you and that you will never allow anybody to hurt me."

"And?"

"And..." a pause. "I don't think I can do this, Slade," she whimpered. "I'm sorry... I just don't think I am ready for something like this Masquerade Ball."

"Sienna..." he began, but she continued talking, unable to shut up now that she'd spilled her humiliating secret.

"I thought I could do this. I wanted to do this. I fully intended to make you proud by walking into that ballroom all by myself..." She sent him a look full of abject misery. "But there are just way too many people here."

"Nothing bad is going to happen to you, love," he murmured in that tone which always seemed to slide beneath the edge of her panic and scare away the demons laughing and hurling obscenities at her. "You know that I'd stop them long before they managed to touch you."

"Promise?"

His thumb lightly traced her bottom lip. "I promise."

Promises, Sienna had come to learn, were things that carried special meaning with Slade Wilson. They were not guarantees that he made recklessly, nor that he treated lightly. She recalled how the first promise he'd ever made to her was about how he would "never allow" her "to be hurt again."

"_I will protect you, little one," he crooned to her in a silky smooth timbre that made her belly do jumping jacks even while her head swam in its drug induced haze. "And I will keep you safe. I promise_."

It was a promise he'd yet to break in the months they'd been together.

The live band she'd hired began playing _Grim, Grinning Ghosts_. Sienna felt it an appropriate choice considering the innumerable ghosts surrounding them. Slade led her into a dance moments before one of his masked goons appeared from out of nowhere to dispel the magical lull that had slowly been overtaking them.

"What is it?" he growled at them.

"There is a... situation," the man intoned slowly. "What would you like us to do?"

"Handle it."

The man visibly flinched at the force of those words. "But sir," he stuttered. "It's Oliver Queen. He's been spotted."

Feral joy burned from Slade's eye, and his face no longer was human. "Has he now?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, then," Slade rumbled now in a voice that sent shivers dancing along Sienna's spine. "Tell your men to be ready."

"Yes, sir."

The man melted back into the shadows then.

"Slade," Sienna began but he silenced her by resting his fingers against her trembling lips.

"Go back to our room and wait for me, love."

Realizing that it was futile to argue with him, she nodded. "Yes, of course."

Slade left her as the band began playing _Dance Macabre_. With a sigh, Sienna started to make her way off the floor, doing her best to ignore the masked faces crowding in on her as they drew abreast of her. A hand clutched at her arm, detaining her. Her shriek died in her throat when she heard a familiar voice in her ear.

"Stay, and dance with me, Miss James. _Please_."

Sienna went cold to the marrow.

_What are you doing here_? she silently beseeched the man at her back. _Don't you know what Slade will do if he finds you here_?

"Dance with me," he urged her again in a low, charged whisper. "Before people begin to notice how we are standing here in the middle of the floor."

Sweat popped out, cold and clammy, over her skin. It was taking every ounce of her willpower to not turn tail and run. Or scream at the top of her lungs for Slade or one of his minions. Something stopped her from calling out, though. Sienna figured it was because of the fight that would break out once he saw his sworn enemy with her. But a part of her, a dark and desperate part, told her that that was a lie. A voice she recognized as _That Woman's_ whispered to her that she didn't call for Slade because "she didn't want to see Oliver Queen hurt."

"Miss James, please," Oliver entreated in that rich tone he'd used the night she met him in his club, _Verdant_. "Dance with me."

"No..." she jumped when a couple dressed as Mr. and Mrs. Incredible swung by them. The bands returned, clenching tight. More people moved around them and she shuddered. Oliver heard her breath rattling out from between her teeth because he settled one of his large hands on her back and rubbed it in those same slow, soothings circles her brother Jonathan would whenever she'd be freaking out about midterms, finals, term papers and failing out of school because she couldn't keep up with all her studies.

"Easy," he murmured. "They are not going to hurt you." Then he added in a voice ripe with understanding and sympathy, "I'm not here to hurt you. Now, please, dance with me, Miss James."

"No," she said once she'd collected herself. "No, I wo-won't dance with yo-you." She cast a quick glance over her shoulder at him, hissed, "And _you_ shouldn't even be here. Have you lost what sense your mother gave you? Coming into Slade's home? Approaching me? Stupid!"

"Dance with me and I will explain why I am here."

"No."

Yet even as she (again) told him no, she allowed him to turn her, to lead her into a slow waltz. After a few tense seconds she finally found the courage to lift her head to look at him. A forest green mask and a hood with the center shaped to resemble an eagle's beak concealed the majority of his features from view, but there was no mistaking it was Oliver Queen looking at her.

"Wh-what are you do-doing here?" she stammered, feeling a scorching heat creeping up into her cheeks. "Do-don't you know how dangerous it is for you to be here?"

"I needed to talk with you," he replied. "And this was the only way that I thought I might be able to get near you without Slade noticing."

"Me?" she squeaked. "Why do you need to talk with me?"

"I want to help you, Miss James."

"Help me?" She frowned her confusion. "Help me do what?"

"Leave Slade Wilson."

Sienna reared back as if he'd slapped her. She was about to open her mouth and scream, but Oliver, seeing her intention, swung her out onto the small balcony that was between the living room and Slade's office. Sienna pulled away instantly, and rounded on him, fire singing in her veins and blazing from her eyes.

"How dare you!" she hissed at him. "Who do you think you are?"

"Right now?" Oliver didn't growl it. He just sounded exhausted. "A friend."

Sienna felt a stirring of sympathy for him, but quickly slapped it away. "Right," she scoffed. "And why should I trust you, Mr. Queen?"

"Miss James," he began saying. "I realize you have no reason whatsoever to trust me..."

"I don't."

"However," he continued on a long breath. "My intention tonight is merely to offer you a way out."

"A way out of what," she gritted. "Exactly what are you implying here, Mr. Queen?"

"I want to offer you a way out of this prison that Slade has locked you away in."

"Look around you, Mr. Queen," Sienna's voice dripped acidic honey. "Does it look like I am a prisoner of this house? No. What I am is the Queen of this domicile."

"Look, Miss James, I know you think that you're safe with Slade..."

"I _am_ safe with Slade," she stated firmly.

"-but you're not."

Sienna fisted her hands and planted them upon her hips before demanding, "And why is it that you _think_ I am not safe with Slade, Mr. Queen?"

Oliver went to settle his hands upon her shoulders but Sienna scurried out of his reach. He dropped his hands to his sides, and stood there looking at her. What little of his face she could see showed her a man who genuinely believed he'd come to rescue her. The earnestness in his eyes, upon his face showed her his intentions were honorable ones. _Misguided though those intentions may be_, she thought. Sienna took a moment to study him. Oliver was a tall man, a few inches taller than Slade, in fact, with a lean, disciplined physique that was well-suited for his career as Starling's Vigilante. The long cape he wore draped over and around his left arm and shoulder billowed around him in the warm breeze blowing. That he'd chosen to come dressed as the Renaissance Assassin, Ezio Auditore da Firenze was not lost upon Sienna.

Nor was the frustration that oozed off him in waves.

"Slade is not the man you think he is," he told her. "He's a..."

"Mercenary?" she supplied for him. "Yes, I know."

"He's a murderer."

"Oh, like your own ledger has no red in it?" She snorted even as he swore, long and foully. "I know you have taken lives, Mr. Queen. Some," she pointed out with a small sniff, "while the person is living under the guise of a _hero_."

He took a step towards her. "I killed men who hurt a lot of innocent people. And," he added, his voice dropping an octave, "unlike Slade, I regret each life that I have taken."

"So does he."

"Slade Wilson regrets _nothing_."

"Oh, Mr. Queen," she said sadly. "Slade regrets _many_ things." She paused, sighed. "A regret is what I feel drives his vengeance against you, in fact."

"That is why you should leave him, Miss James."

Oliver shifted close enough that she caught a whiff of his cologne. The spicy, musky scent reminded her of another man, a good man. One who was just as broken and angry as Oliver Queen. _And just as rich as well_.

"Pray tell, why should I leave him, Mr. Queen?"

"You could be hurt because of his vendetta against me," she heard him say. "And I don't want to see _you_ get hurt because of it."

She turned away to look out over the glittering skyline of the city. "I understand what you are trying to do... and I appreciate it." She glanced at him from over her shoulder. "Truly I do. But I'm not leaving him."

"Why?" Impatience sang in his voice, was stamped upon his face. "Why won't you leave him?"

"Because he needs me." At his scoff she turned to look at him, her brow puckered with her disapproval. "Scoff if you want, but it is the truth. Slade Wilson needs me. And," she continued, her voice dropping to a low, near conspiratorial tone, "I need him."

The breath that Oliver released stirred the waterfall of curls gathered at her crown. That he didn't understand, that he couldn't see, that he refused to believe that a strong man like her cantankerous pirate could have need of anybody was clear. She felt his fingers brush her wrist and went still as stone. Her breath hitched as she waited, frazzled nerves tensing in readiness of his taking her hand in his. Oliver must have sensed her unease because he retreated with only a faint whisper of sound to show his sympathy and apology.

Sienna opened her mouth to say something, but whatever she might have said was cut short by a commotion in the ballroom. A quick glance showed her both a brawl had erupted between two men dressed as Batman and Robin. Masked goons instantly broke it up, nimbly ejecting the offenders from the apartment. The disruption the fight had caused the other guests was a palpable and tangible feeling upon the air. As the Queen of this domicile, Sienna knew it was her responsibility to restore order and see that the Ball got back underway.

"I," she said apologetically. "Must go and see to Slade's guests."

"Miss James..." Oliver began but Sienna interrupted him.

"Go, Mr. Queen. Go, now, before I change my mind and call for either Slade's men, or Slade himself."

Oliver went to set a hand upon her shoulder and Sienna let him even though the effort to stand still cost her dearly. "Come with me. _Please_."

"No."

Short, succulent and sweet. His fingers tightened reflexively upon her shoulder, but not hard enough to cause her any discomfort. Frustration and something else, something darker and that Sienna couldn't identify snapped in his voice when he said, "He will never forgive you for letting me leave."

"When I tell him why I let you leave, he will understand. And he will forgive me for my one indiscretion."

Only silently did she add, _I hope_.

Through the flood of annoyance, the dark desire to protect, he struggled to understand. She saw the flicker of uncertainty, the multitude of questions he wanted to ask but knew he couldn't because there was no time for multiple questions. He finally settled on the one bothering him the most.

"Why _are_ you letting me leave, Miss James?"

"Because, Mr. Queen, you've reminded me that not every man in a mask means to harm me."

She saw understanding dawn in his eyes, upon his face. She reached up to set a hand upon the one on her shoulder. Her fingers trembled around his, the only outward sign of how nervous she was. It had been two years since she'd touched any man besides Slade. Two years since she'd been tempted to trust any man other than her moody bandit. It was a... _liberating_ feeling. It was almost as if a great weight had been lifted off her heart. Giving her that release was the sole reason for why she urged him to take his.

"Go, Mr. Queen. And," she stated in a soft, but firm voice, "don't come here again. I may not allow you to leave the next time."

Sienna turned then, walked back into the penthouse. She could feel Oliver's eyes upon her, and glanced back, once. Their eyes met. Held. Shared secrets. Then she smiled quietly, moved into the sea of masked people. And was gone.


	9. Madam'zelleGiry

**Retourner **

**Author**: Madam'zelleGiry

**Fandom**: Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame

**Claim**: Clopin

* * *

><p><em>retourner <em>

Hastily scrawled in fading ink, the word stares hauntingly out of the bricks lining the canal. The icy water bows low at the gentle persuasion of the paddle.

The darkness of the tunnel is broken only by two flaming torches whose light trembles at the message. Above their heads, drunken merriment can be heard on the streets of Paris, dancing, singing, revelry. Fearless, joyful...

"_Go back…" _

The low hiss in the back of his mind stiffens his back as he dips his paddle into the water. While he may return his wife's nervous breaths with a gentle squeeze, he can't deny he feels the same… should they have come? Their son lies with his head on his mother's lap, fast asleep, as is the luxury of childish unawareness.

He sets his paddle in the boat next to him, and the only sounds can be heard are the merriments above and the slick dripping in the catacombs around them. They must wait for the festival to conclude before they can continue. When night falls, safety becomes less of an illusion, though only slightly.

The night of All Hallows will continue for hours, yet they cannot allow themselves that moment needed to relax. A moment's rest… a moment's lapse. All that's needed for the soldiers to come, to find them. To end it all.

_By order of the king… all who enter upon this city will be searched… must find the ones responsible… there will be no exceptions… cannot allow… gypsies. _

Breath catches in their throats as footsteps nimbly bound down the steps to their left; they are discovered. Are they? The owner carries no light, and fears not to step into the glow of their torches. His blue mask shimmers in the fire, showing his soft grin as he beckons.

"Come with me, friends," he says, backpedaling in the direction their boat flows. "All Hallows dans Paris awaits!"

His appearance is so unexpected the man shakes his head. "Who are you to call us friends?"

Next to him, his wife grabs at his sleeve, whispering something in their native language, but he purses his lips and turns back to the intruder. "Who are you?" he repeats, and his eyes look fearful as he speaks.

But the man in the shadows only smiles and beckons once more. "I can give you safe passage into Paris," he says softly. "Trust me. I know how they will treat our kind. I can give you safety."

When the man does not respond, the masked man looks over his shoulder, his smile fading as a stone falls down the stairs behind them. "My name is Émile," he whispers. "I can help you. Please. It won't be long before the soldiers find us. You know what will happen to your boy if they find you."

"And if they find you?"

Émile smiles. "Don't worry about me, friend. These troubled waters and not to-"

Yet more footsteps echo in their ears and the adults tense. The woman touches the face of her husband, whispering into the darkness as their torches go out.

"Follow my voice."

The man pulls the paddle in and out of the water as fast as he dares, his motions doing what little they can to follow the instructions. He knows not why he trusts this voice, but the voices behind him betray that they will be discovered if they stay. Light follows them as they paddle, and they crouch forward, hardly daring to breathe.

The appearance of the two men in uniform at the end of the catacombs causes them all to freeze; there is nowhere for them to go. There is no time to hurriedly stop the boat, only to duck and pray…

"Savez-vous quand nous sommes pour revenir à la fête? Pourquoi sommes-nous ici?"

"Ils ont entendu un bruit."

"D'intrusion?"

"Je ne sais pas."

Their guide has vanished into thin air, one apparently skilled in this manner. The man is astonished that the two soldiers have not seen their boat, so close are they to where they stand. His body aches to leap from the boat, to fly into some form of action that will allow his family safe passage. It is only the steely grip of his wife's hand on his arm that prevents him from motion…

The arrow flies towards them before anyone can react; striking the side of the boat as though it was a warning. A scream fills the air behind him, and suddenly he is everywhere and nowhere, trying to understand what's happened as the shots are fired from behind and…

The ice of his breath shreds against the blood-stained air as the glint of silver leaves his fist. It strikes the target, just shy of the mark, but the man still staggers and falls to one knee. The second blade is pulled from his boot, hurling towards the second man, slicing, slicing into the air…

_I'm sorry…_

It's over before it begins, the bodies strewn on the stones of the now-dark catacombs. And next to him, the arrows protruding from the bodies of the woman and child next to him, still, oh so very still…

"My friend?"

And he's out of the boat now, throwing himself at the man in the mask, pinning him against the wall with his fist in the throat. "What have you done?"

"Please, I beg you…" Émile looks frightened, and the sight is nearly comical, with the slightness of the man pinning the burly Émile to the wall. "Come with me. More soldiers will come."

The man can only shake his head once more, tears springing into his eyes. "I fail to see why that matters now." He gestures towards the warm bodies in the boat. "Death is already irreparable."

"Then it is for that reason you must come with me."

The revelry above still sings, tainting the stained breath of the catacombs... the man can only stare, looking into the flames...


	10. Lord Astrea

**Puzzle and Treats: A Halloween Dungeon**

**Author: **Lord Astrea

**Fandom:** Puzzle and Dragons

**Claim: **Hera

* * *

><p>She is The Divine Queen Hera. A queen of darkness who ranks as one of the most deadly of all the dark attribute monsters in the Puzzle and Dragons universe. Puzzle and Dragons "World" was born, and with it, rising from the darkness, Hera unlocked her true hidden powers of the feared Ultra Gravity. Dark mystic knights cower at her feet, the shadows shy away from her aura, and even the mighty Satan feels a cold chill creep down his spine in her presence.<p>

She wore her black caricthmian-style armor with matching metal wrist guards and greaves. A black, deadly circlet rested upon her head with curved spikes jutting from the sides. A corrupted ruby rested in its center. Her mix of red and brunette hair hung past her waste and flowed elegantly around her form. Her armor was more revealing than she would have liked, but it was difficult to find attire that matched her alluring figure these days.

On this night of Halloween, she currently resides in the Clayus Prison, a dungeon completely hidden from the light of day and heavy with the stench of decay. As feared as Hera was, she did not particularly care for death. As a matter of fact, she found the bodies in the halls that surrounded her room to be a little unsettling. It would seem that even a queen of darkness was vulnerable with so many bodies devoid of life.

Perhaps that was why no Players had shown up at the Clayus Prison as of late. Perhaps they feared this darkness and what was hidden within its depths.

Hera sat in her throne, crafted from rare stone native to the abyss, her face resting in the palm of one hand and elbow propped on an arm of the throne. She let out a bored, heavy sigh as her other hand twirled in circles with a strand of black magic following the tips of her fingers lazily.

Then, her patience hit a wall.

"Baddie!"

She shouted for her tiny servant who scurried into the room immediately, dragging its dark, plush-like body over the rough stone. It really did look like a round plush toy, about the size of a toddler. It struggled to flap its tiny wings the extra distance to its master's feet.

"Reporting Miss Hera!" the small servant announced professionally. A bead of sweat trailed down the side of its face.

Hera squatted down and grabbed Baddie with one hand and easily brought its face inches from her own, "Where are all the Players? There are nearly a thousand of them in this world. They've been here for weeks. Surely they have reached a level by now that is worthy of traversing this dungeon."

Baddie shivered, "Well, you see-"

"And I am sick of this vile smell! A bunch of filthy corpses defecated by some damn zombie dragon."

"I don't know about Players, but there are monsters from outside the dungeon that are here. They were asking for you," Baddie stammered.

Hera tilted her head in confusion, "What? Who? Satan? Hades? They should be halfway across the continent by now."

Baddie shook his body desperately, "No. She says her name is Karin. I don't think she's on our side. Right?"

Baddie noticed one of Hera's eyes twitch. Its body now quaked uncontrollably as it felt Hera's grip begin to tighten.

"Ow ow ow ow ow!"

She tossed the poor lesser monster aside, and it barely managed to flap its wings fast enough to right itself in the air for a steady landing. It hopped away as Hera rose from her throne and prepared for an imminent battle. The dark energy in her hands grew in intensity and formed into a swirling sphere.

The massive stone double doors of the dungeon burst open and Hera could feel the force of her enemy's kick push against her.

Hera's eyes widened in disbelief at the ridiculous outfit the young woman was wearing as she entered the room. She wore a strange pointed hat with what seemed like a black cloak to match. Her blue hair flowed to her waist and jagged horns protruded from her head through holes that were torn in the hat. A tail with a cerulean hue fell from her lower back and brushed the ground. She wielded what appeared to be a simple broom.

She waved her hands in the air excitedly, "Hiiii Heeerrraaaaaaa!"

Was this some sort of trick? She was supposed to be the enemy in the war of monsters. But the stupid girl just stood there waving her arms like a complete ditz as if they were best friends. No, it couldn't be a trick. If it was, it was a really stupid one, for lack of a better word.

More figures approached from behind Karin. Baddie was supposed to let loose the dark mystic knights that were waiting on the other side of the walls. If he didn't hurry, she would be completely outnumbered and outmatched if this was indeed a full assault by the Guardians.

Hera's jaw dropped as the individuals appeared. Behind Karin, Hera's comrades from the Legion of the Abyss stared dejectedly at the ground wearing similar ridiculous outfits.

"Hades?! Satan?! Even Belltraxex?! What?!"

The king of the underworld, Hades, simply stared at the ground muttering curses under his breath. His usual cloak of darkness was now replaced by a skin-tight pink suit made of some strange leathery material. Bunny ears were attached to his head and his white, skull-masked face had rainbows and hearts painted on it.

A woman wearing a matching outfit hugged him from behind happily. Her outfit was slightly more revealing and defined the curves of her alluring body. Persephone certainly didn't mind flaunting her body. Her long black hair fell over Hades' face. He didn't even bother to move.

The woman squealed happily, "Oh my god Hades you look so cute! I just knew it would be a perfect fit for you!"

"Kill me," Hades muttered under his breath.

Hera turned to Satan, who didn't wear an outfit, but was covered in strange jewelery. Each of his six arms were covered in shining bracelets of all colors of the rainbow. This look completely conflicted with his dark, muscular body. His spiked helmet also had similar cute symbols painted on it, and the once blood-red bandana he wore over his mouth was now painted yellow with a smile lined over it. He pulled at the bracelets with all his strength. They wouldn't yield a bit.

"How did they get you?!" Hera asked Satan incredulously. "I mean, I understand Hades, he's whipped, but you..."

Satan ceased his struggle and his arms sagged, "During Halloween, the entire world is a designated 'safe zone' to celebrate the holiday. The Creators of this world decided it," he sighed heavily, "I chose to take a rest from all the fighting and, well, I didn't expect this ridiculous girl and her friends to do something like this," he continued pulling at the bracelets.

Hera didn't even bother to ask Belltraxex. The knight with the black armor was now wearing rainbow armor. Splashes of color could be seen from a poor paint job. There was no need for inquiry since nobody had ever heard him speak a word anyway.

When Hera turned her attention to him he simply shrugged.

Karin looked behind her expectantly and produced a microphone seemingly from nowhere, "And now, introducing, the Guardians of Puzzle and Dragons: Leilan, Sakuya, Haku, and Ray!"

Four more individuals walked in from the shadows. Their faces and posture mirrored those of their enemies; however, today, they were all equals, for they shared the same misery.

One wore a costume that consisted of a bunch of cardboard boxes taped together with shades of dark blue and purple. The whole body was completely covered. The person seemed to be dressed like a robot of some kind.

The second individual was a shy-looking girl with blonde hair and a tail similar to Karin's, only golden with spikes like scimitar blades. At the end of the tail was a cute red ribbon with a bell attached. She had on an extremely revealing strapless, skintight outfit and black cat ears.

The other female, Haku, wore her typical violet kungfu outfit with spiked rings in her hands the size of hula hoops. Her light purple, striped cat tail swayed back and forth. Karin probably didn't even bother to dress her up because Haku was, well, Haku.

And finally, a young male entered the room wearing an outfit similar to Hades, except his pink outfit had all the female names written on it with the word "claimed" next to each one.

This young man was Ray Andylon, a superb Player who had assumed various titles throughout the virtual world. He was described by most of the other Players as a monster himself. Seeing someone like him reduced to this pitiful state was inconceivable.

He lifted his hand in a half-hearted wave, "Sup."

The blonde girl in the cat outfit, Sakuya, felt tears well up in her eyes as she attempted to lift up the front of her outfit. It was extremely uncomfortable and far too revealing for such a shy girl. She managed to breathe a small bit of thanks, for the males of the room were at least being decent and resisted ogling her. Then again, they had their own humiliation to worry about.

"I can't wear this!" she cried. "This is-so-so..."

The box robot stood next to Sakuya and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Karin turned back to Hera and pumped her fist in the air, "Now we have the max number of monsters! And we have a Player to match orbs for us!"

Ray spoke up, "This is a load of sh-" his comment was interrupted as the cardboard robot hit him over the head with the end of a halberd.

"Members for what?" Hera asked still in shock.

The individual in the robotic box suit (who Hera believed through process of elimination was Leilan) lifted a finger and spoke up, her voice muffled by the box mask, "We are apparently attempting a Halloween dungeon."

Hera stared at her in disbelief, "Halloween dungeon?"

Karin nodded enthusiastically, "Yup yup. The Creators developed a Halloween dungeon that is supposed to have an amazing prize at the end. Now with you added to our party, we can finally take the dungeon on!"

Hera held a hand out before Karin even finished her statement, "No way. Not happening. Goodbye."

Hera was about to sit back in her throne when Karin protested, "But there might be," she paused for dramatic effect, "Spirit jeeeeewwwweeeelllllsssssss," she dragged the word out unnecessarily.

Hera froze and glared at Karin. Spirit jewels were a rare evolution material/enhancement for monsters in the world of Puzzle and Dragons, and it wouldn't be strange for an event like this to have some of them as a dungeon prize since special holidays didn't occur very often.

She stared at the ground and leaned a hand against the throne. If there was even a possibility of spirit jewels as a prize, then she couldn't very well let the opportunity go to waste. But to go with Karin and her friends, it was almost too much; and then there were her comrades dressed in those absolutely ridiculous outfits.

No, she would fight through it. She would tolerate the stupid one and the rest of this motley crew. For the spirit jewels, she would cope.

Hera turned back to Karin, "Very well, I will join you in the dungeon."

Karin cheered happily and the vast majority of her comrades sulked out of the dungeon.

"I hate everything," Hades and Ray said simultaneously. They stared at each other for a moment and, as if by some telepathic connection of sympathy, put their fists together in a gesture of understanding.

A gaping maw in the Sacred Mt. Bakkes welcomed them as they exited the Fire Forest Nerva. Needless to say, it was on fire, as usual, and it was difficult weaving a path through the flames with fireball pumpkins falling from the trees, courtesy of the Creators in the real world.

Karin lead the group, lifting her legs in the air unnaturally in some exaggerated military stride. Hera walked next to her in irritation as Karin continued her incessant babbling. The rest followed: Sakuya, still making unsuccessful attempts to adjust her outfit; Ray and Hades, sulking with Persephone in tow; Satan, wallowing in his misery (he managed to pull one of the rings off); Belltraxex, silently on full alert in his humiliating rainbow armor; Leilan, who waddled awkwardly in her box suit; and then Haku, with her typical neutral, passive expression associated with her character.

The first few dungeons were easy. The only opposition was a few mystic knights, some golems, and a trio of ogres wearing ghost outfits. Giant slime monsters were further on, and these resembled a green goo taken from some childish horror story by R.L. Stine. Goblins scurried around in clown outfits, and pyro demons carried small pumpkins in their hands that ticked like bombs.

Hera found the entire idea ludicrous. What were the Creators thinking when they put this together?

As the group approached the final room before the boss dungeon, Hera felt a powerful presence lurking somewhere deep in the shadows. She noticed that the rest of the party felt it as well, and they all crouched low in a defensive stance.

As Hera glanced around the room, she realized that the individual who was usually next to her was now missing.

Hera spoke up, "Where is Ray? He's supposed to balance out this side with his light attribute attacks."

Everyone took the time to give the room a once over.

"Hades is missing too!" Persephone searched frantically.

They all finally settled on a corner that was illuminated by some miniscule ball of light. Ray and Hades sat there scrolling through the holographic screen on Ray's personal database.

The device was attached to the wrist. It was given to Players to keep track of their level, stats, monster box, and other crucial bits of information in the virtual world. Apparently, it even had the ability to bring up a holographic chess board.

"You go first," Ray said. His spirits seemed to be somewhat lifted.

Hades made his first move with one of the knights and let out a low chuckle, "This is truly a rare treat. Nobody ever plays chess with me. Your move."

Ray weighed some possible options and simply moved one of the pawns, "It has been a while for me as well. Try to go easy."

The rest of the group stared, mouths hanging open.

"What are you guys doing?!" Karin shouted disapprovingly.

Ray looked up as Hades was planning his next move and shouted across the room, "We're done!You can handle it I'm sure."

He went back to the chess game.

"I think this is their way of getting back at you for the stupid outfits," Haku commented.

Karin huffed, "Fine! We don't need them. Let's just beat this guy and get to the boss room."

"Hades why aren't you helping out?!" Persephone cried.

"It might be a difficult fight without a Player to match orbs," Leilan-the-box-robot noted, "Matched orbs increase our power substantially."

"We'll manage."

A low, menacing growl filled the dungeon in the midst of their conversation. The padding of feet echoed off the stone walls, making it difficult to pinpoint the exact location of the enemy.

Then, suddenly, Karin caught just inside her peripheral vision, a pair of yellow eyes with vertically thin pupils.

The unknown creature launched itself at Karin with astounding speed, but Karin was faster. She reared back one of her arms and brought her metal gauntlets to bear on the creature. As her fist connected, she could finally make out its gray, lean fur body.

The wolf monster slid across the ground on its four legs and steadied itself easily, even after receiving the full brunt of Karin's attack. It snarled at its opponents and let out a long howl.

As the wolf drew out its signal, more wolves, slightly smaller in size, but no less fearsome, appeared out of the all-consuming darkness. They lowered themselves and positioned their weight back on their hind legs, prepared to pounce.

Karin turned to Haku, "Haku, an analysis please," she was painfully aware of the apprehension that had seeped into her usual carefree tone.

But the prize was at stake! She needed it!

Haku nodded, "Sure."

Her eyes began to glow a golden yellow and her pupils disappeared as she ran a scan over the hungry wolves. After a few seconds, her eyes returned to their normal state.

"The big one is named Werewolf King of Hounds: HP-20,666,666; Active Skill- Hunger of the Pack; Active Skill-Mirror; Active Skill- Light Orb Jammer; Leader Skill- Dark Eater; Attack- 5,333; Defense- 3,000."

At the conclusion of Haku's analysis, the werewolves, sensing their enemies' hesitation, took the opportunity to mount a second offensive. It became obvious that the wolves were veering their attention to the visibly smaller prey as primary targets. They first went for Haku, who began twirling her spiked rings around her wrists at impossible speeds. She let loose the first ring and it carved cleanly into the side of the first wolf. It went down immediately in a crumpled heap. The second closed in on Haku and leaped, but she had already positioned herself a few feet ahead, anticipating the reckless attack. She lifted the final ring above her head and it sliced into the werewolf's belly. The wolf disappeared in a shower of data shards.

Leilan was having slightly more trouble due to the bulk of her costume. She attempted to lash out at the nearest werewolf with her halberd, but her movements were too exaggerated. The werewolf dodged easily and drove her into the ground. It tore viciously at the cardboard that was her only line of defense. But Leilan didn't even bother to struggle. The cardboard costume was the source of her impeded movement, so she decided to allow the wolf to do as it pleased with the fragile armor.

As soon as she felt less resistance in her right arm, she grasped at the fur of the wolf's neck and flung it to the side like a ragdoll. She rose and tore the rest of the armor off. She now stood there in her typical red and gold Chinese dress, her rainbow wings spread wide and free.

The wolf leaped at her once again and Leilan cut it down with a simple downward motion. The double-edged axe blade of the halberd drove into the wolf's skull and it vanished.

Off to the opposite side of the room, she noticed Satan wrestling with the king werewolf. Even Satan, with his unbelievable strength, was having a difficult time keeping the wolf's jaws under control. It was apparent that his distraction would not hold out much longer for the other monsters. After all, it was a boss, and could only be beaten with teamwork.

Persephone was making short work of any werewolves that happened to come within reach of her dancing scythe. She wielded the scythe in an upper arc that drove through two wolves at once. A third wolf appeared and her scythe drove cleanly through its body before it even had a chance to leap. The length of her scythe had been completely unpredictable. For good measure, she flung the impaled wolf at its nearest comrade and they collided before it even had a chance to burst into its particles of data.

Belltraxex was fearsome. Five wolves stalked around him, searching for some opening in his defenses. None were to be found in this dark knight's form (rainbow, excuse me). Belltraxex's patience was indomitable. The wolves sensed this and charged recklessly in unison, hoping their sheer numbers would be sufficient to overwhelm him. He ran a hand across his broadsword and a soft glow emitted from its edges. He pointed the blade at the nearest attacker. The blade deciphered his will and extended to three times its usual length and drove through the wolf's mouth, killing it instantly. Belltraxex concentrated all of his strength into his hips and brought the blade full circle to slice into the remaining wolves the surrounded him.

When all of the wolves in his area had disappeared, he retracted the blade.

While in the midst of combat, everyone heard a shrill scream from somewhere unknown in the room. The monster comrades searched for the source of the scream and found Sakuya running away from a trio of werewolves that held some of the cloth of her outfit in their mouths. The waistline of her outfit had been torn and in some places on her legs. She ran covering her chest as the werewolves continued to bite at her.

"This is so embarrassing!" she screamed, tears flowing freely from her eyes, "Kill them! Please, kill them!"

The last person Sakuya expected to assist her was Hera. Hera grabbed one of the wolves by the face and tossed it to the ground like a small rodent. The other two spit the cloth from their mouths and charged at the unarmed Hera. They attacked separately, and the first was met by a quick backhand to the face. It rolled along the ground near Persephone who finished it off with her scythe. The second received a knee to the jaw and a sphere of dark energy shoved unnecessarily down its throat. The wolf exploded and disappeared.

Through all of this, Hades and Ray continued their game of chess, sparing a few glances every so often to observe the battle's progression. They witnessed Hera's rescue of Sakuya with surprise. It was not in Hera's nature to help someone in need.

They couldn't help but stare at Sakuya as she began to relax herself. She bowed continually to Hera in gratitude.

"Poor girl," Hades said with only a shred of empathy.

Ray stared at the database on his wrist, "Wonder if this thing has a camera function."

"DON'T YOU DARE!"

Ray and Hades jerked up and saw Persephone staring dangerously at them from across the room. A ghostly black aura began to emanate from her with (and Ray and Hades had to question this) an evil grinning face that promised nothing but eternal pain.

Hades pushed Ray's arm down, "I-it was just a joke."

They shivered uncontrollably.

"I could use a little help!" Satan roared on the other side of the room.

He was now on his back attempting to fight off the giant werewolf's incessant biting. One of these attempts barely missed Satan's face and tore at his smiling bandana. He punched the werewolf under the jaw and managed to right himself in time before the werewolf shook off the blow. Satan was panting visibly. He had single-handedly held off a boss in a dungeon.

His comrades couldn't help but stare in wonder at his sheer power.

"That's the guy we have to fight when the holiday is over," Leilan commented.

Haku shook her head, "Don't remind me."

"I wanna go home!" Sakuya cried.

Leilan and Haku's eyes widened as Sakuya's body began to visibly glow. The light illuminated the room and the king werewolf attempted to retreat, but it was all-encompassing.

Sakuya subconsciously conjured two massive spheres of light in her hands. They promptly grew to at least triple her size. Spikes jutted out on all areas of their surface and strange runes began to encircle the tips, with tendrils of energy swirling all around. They continued to grow in size.

Hera and the others began to back up nervously. The power emanating from the spheres was intense and heavy.

"How is she able to maintain control of all this power?" Hera asked in disbelief.

"This is what happens when Sakuya gets reeeaaallllly upset," Karin answered.

"I recommend we run," Haku said evenly.

"Um, yeah. I will take your advice," Persephone concurred.

"Agreed," Leilan nodded her assent.

Belltraxex followed their lead.

They bid a hasty retreat to distance themselves from Sakuya's spheres, which still continued the effusion of energy. Satan had already sensed the power of Sakuya's aura and attached himself to the ceiling with his six arms. His fingers dug deeply into the stone as he struggled to hold his weight.

Ray and Hades sat against the wall. They had decided to give their chess game a break. There was no reason for them to run. They were already as far as they could go.

"Quite impressive," Hades commented with a hint of admiration.

"Sure glad she's a part of my team," Ray said.

"Leave me alone!" Sakuya screamed.

Sakuya threw the two giant, glowing spheres at the remaining werewolves and everyone's vision was filled with the burning, brilliant light.

Hera stared into the crater, a result of the impact from Sakuya's dangerous spheres of light attribute energy. The crater was deep, and its diameter reached out to nearly every wall in the dungeon. It had extended to the ceiling and nearly consumed Satan as well. An entire section of a back wall collapsed and loose stone fell from the cracked ceiling.

"And we thought Satan was strong," Hera said. It was difficult to mask her shock.

"Even I'm surprised," Karin nodded in agreement.

Sakuya was off to the side staring at the ground in confusion.

"Are you okay Sakuya?" Leilan asked as she approached her.

Sakuya shook her head and stared at her torn outfit. Most of the sleeves were now gone and it was even harder to pull up the outfit due to the lack of fabric.

"It's even worse now!" she cried. "Why is it always me?! Waaaaaaaaaaah!"

"I think she's fine," Satan grunted.

"Not psychologically, but physically yes," Haku added.

All of the monsters gathered around the final, massive double doors of obsidian that led to the final room (with Leilan guiding a crying Sakuya).

Ray approached the door and turned to the monsters to make sure they were ready. They all nodded (except Sakuya). He pressed all his weight against the door and it opened inwards with a groan of resistance. The flickering light of torches welcomed the group. The room was absolutely massive, and hundreds upon hundreds of torches were attached to the walls. Dozens of candle chandeliers hung from the ceiling and swayed from some unseen force.

The monsters and Ray entered the room cautiously. Haku did not sense any presence upon inquiry. There was nothing but an ominous silence.

"So, where is it?" Hera asked impatiently.

As if on cue, a massive wind picked up and the warriors were forced to shield their eyes. The wind nearly lifted them off the ground.

From the high ceiling above, a massive form appeared. Gigantic wings extended from its imposing form. It was shaped almost like an egg, from what the monsters could discern from below. In its small, paw-like hands was a giant black cauldron. Other smaller creatures of similar shape began to descend as well.

As they drew closer, everyone recognized exactly what these creatures were.

The massive creature really was an egg, or, actually, it rested in half an egg shell. The half-shell had a bright, glittering gold star etched into it. The plush-like giant white monster that filled the shell smiled at them cutely and blinked its small, black eyes a few times to adjust to the light of the torches. The other tinier versions of it flew down with their small wings and the same adorable smiles.

"Tama!" the egg monsters shouted happily in a cute voice.

Hera's jaw dropped, "No...No way. This is implausible right?"

"They're tamadras!" Karin shouted gleefully.

Haku analyzed the tamadras briefly, "Tamadra: Health- 100; Attack-100; Active Skill- None; Leader Skill- None. Conclusion of assessment-"

"They are completely harmless," Leilan finished.

The giant tamadra alighted on the ground and set the giant cauldron on the stone floor in front of the warrior monsters. The monsters also noticed that the smaller tamadras were now carrying mini versions of the cauldron. They approached each individual and handed them a cauldron. They pointed to the larger one enthusiastically.

"Apparently, we use these cauldrons to scoop out whatever is in that big one," Ray observed.

Karin jumped up eagerly, "Let me go first! Let me go first!"

They all watched as she rushed forward, and a group of tamadras lifted her to the edge of the giant cauldron.

_I swear, if there aren't any spirit jewels in there I'm going to...I have no idea. I'll probably kill Karin, _Hera thought.

Karin squealed happily from the cauldron, "Guys! It's amazing! There's so much of it!"

She drove the belly of her cauldron in and scooped up some unseen reward. When the smaller cauldron was filled to the brim she jumped down and landed easily, despite the heavy weight wrapped in her arms. She rushed over and presented the contents of the cauldron to everyone. Hera just happened to be in front and saw the filled cauldron first.

Upon witnessing what lay inside, she immediately grabbed Karin roughly by the collar of her cloak and lifted her with one hand as if she were weightless. She shook her furiously, her eyes wild. Karin stared down at her. Her happy expression didn't waver.

"You told me there would be spirit jewels you conniving little-"

Karin interrupted her pointedly, "Noooooooo, I said there 'might' be spirit jewels. I never said there actually were. I just mentioned the possibility," she flashed an innocent peace sign.

Hera fumed.

Ray stepped in when she showed no sign of releasing Karin, "You'll just have to let it go Hera. The entire world right now is a designated 'safe zone' remember? That means monster partners and Players can't fight each other. No point in wasting your energy."

Hera stared at Ray for a moment and cursed to herself. She knew he was right, but she wanted to punch Karin in the face despite the fact it would amount to nothing. She reluctantly dropped Karin.

Persephone flew up to the cauldron to fill her own cauldron. She patted the giant tamadra on the head as thanks and dropped back down to rejoin everyone.

Hades approached her and stared into the cauldron.

"Candy," he said simply.

"We went through this dungeon for candy?!" Satan roared furiously.

"I went through all this humiliation for candy?!" Sakuya cried.

"Looks like it," Leilan answered both of their incredulous questions.

She grabbed Ray's cauldron since he was a Player and lacked the ability of flight. She flew up with her's as well, filled them quickly, patted the tamadra on the head, and landed gracefully in front of Ray.

He reached out to receive the cauldron, but Leilan held it out of reach. He tilted his head in confusion.

"What is the real reason for you not helping us in the dungeon?" Leilan eyed him critically.

Ray sighed. He had kind of expected this from her, "When you remove individuals from combat, the ones who are left fighting get an experience boost. So when less fighters enter a battle, they gain more experience. It's typically how some RPG-style games work nowadays."

Leilan couldn't help smiling. He was always thinking strategically, even in a silly Halloween dungeon.

She handed him his cauldron of candy, "Typical Ray."

He gratefully accepted the candy. As he searched through the cauldron for pieces of chocolate, a tamadra flew next to him and settled on his shoulder.

"You want some candy too?" Ray asked the little monster. He opened one of the small candies and handed it to the tamadra. It patted his head in thanks and ate the chocolate happily.

Hades sat next to Persephone and examined the candy. He had never eaten anything sweet before. Actually, he usually didn't eat at all.

"This 'candy' is foreign to me," Hades said, "I don't know if I can eat this properly."

Persephone hugged him and laughed as he attempted to find a seam in the wrapping, "It's okay sweetheart. You can figure it out."

Hades grunted in response as he popped a peanut butter flavored candy in his skull mask of a mouth. He had to admit, it was quite delicious. Taste buds were being awoken that he never knew he had.

Haku sat next to Sakuya off to the side, who was still attempting to cover herself with her arms. Haku set a cauldron of candy next to her and sat beside her wordlessly with her own sweets.

Belltraxex approached the two girls silently. Haku eyed him curiously as he crouched in front of Sakuya and presented her with his rainbow cape.

She stared up at him in disbelief. After all, in the war of monsters he was the enemy.

But right now there was no fighting. They had all just put aside their differences and worked together to complete the dungeon. A member of the Guardians or a member of the Legion, it didn't matter.

Sakuya smiled and gratefully accepted the cape. She wiped a tear from her eye and went to eating her candy with renewed spirits. Belltraxex settled himself next to the two females and stared quietly at the rest of the group.

A couple dozen tamadras flew in front of Satan with a large cauldron that was more suited to his bulky form. He accepted the cauldron with a bit of hesitation. He wondered if accepting such a gift would tarnish his frightening image. There was a reputation to consider after all.

He glanced over at Karin who was shoveling handfuls of candy in her mouth. She paid no mind to her appearance. Satan shrugged. The silly one showed no fear of him at their first meeting anyway, so eating some candy might not make much of a difference.

He stared into the bowl and saw that all of the candy was already unwrapped. The tamadras had taken Satan's massive hands into account and realized he would not be able to undo the wrapping himself.

The tamadras rested on four of his arms and left the other two open so he could eat freely.

Hera received her cauldron last. The tamadras sensed her growing frustration and proceeded with caution. They exchanged a worried look amongst themselves.

Two of the more courageous of the group nodded to each other and approached Hera with a cauldron full of candy. She stared at them hatefully, but the cute monsters stood their ground and held the treats out to her insistently. For a short time, both sides refused to yield, Hera with her burning hate, and the two tamadras with their air of calm and quenching generosity.

Finally, Hera sighed and held out her hand reluctantly to accept their gift. The tamadras nodded to each other with their cute smiles and handed the candy to her. Each one flew over and rested on a shoulder to either side of her. She threw a glare at them, but the tamadras were immune to the empty threat. The rest of the tamadras floated happily and rested around her. She stared at them in disbelief and heaved a sigh of defeat.

_Oh whatever._

She unwrapped one of the candies and tossed it in her mouth. It was rich and sweet, delicious as a matter of fact. She would allow herself at least a few more.

Before she even realized it, she had eaten at least over a dozen pieces of candy. She grew conscious of the fact that there were eyes resting on her. It was one of those senses that came naturally to a monster.

She glanced up to see that everyone was now visibly closer to her spot of the room. They stared at her with a mixture of surprise and open delight. Karin sat in front, stifling a laugh.

"W-what is it?" Hera choked on a piece of dark chocolate.

Karin released her laugh, "I think we just found Hera's weakness!"

Hera gaped at her incredulously, "Wait, what?!"

"Honestly I did not expect this of you," Hades commented without criticism.

"Somewhat disappointing," Satan grumbled.

"That's so cute!" Persephone squealed.

Ray started typing into the database on his wrist, "Definitely taking note of this," he grinned.

"I will bring you some candy when we attempt Clayus Prison," Leilan promised.

Sakuya, Haku, and Belltraxex glanced at each other and simply shrugged.

"I am not weak against candy!" Hera yelled.

The tamadras joyfully tossed candy from above like confetti.

"Hey, I think I just gained a level from eating this candy! Sweet!"


	11. darkaccalia520

**Lost Souls**

**Author:** darkaccalia520

**Fandom: **seaQuest

**Claim:** Kristin Westphalen

* * *

><p><em>"Diabolical forces are formidable. These forces are eternal, and they exist today. The fairy tale is true. The devil exists. God exists. And for us, as people, our very destiny hinges upon which one we elect to follow."-Ed Warren<em>

* * *

><p>Kristin cringed inwardly as she walked into the ward room, seeing it decorated for Halloween with skeletons, fake cobwebs, giant spiders, pumpkins, and the like. She'd nearly forgotten what time of year it was, and though she'd never had a problem with the festivities in the past, after last year's fiasco on the <em>George<em>, she wasn't particularly enthusiastic about it now.

The captain was already seated at the head of the table. She gave him a cordial nod and took her seat when she happened to notice him staring at her worriedly. "Something wrong?"

"I was wondering the same thing," he told her. "You look like you've lost your best friend. Aren't you feeling well?"

"Oh..." She offered him a weak smile, motioning to the skeleton in the corner. "I see someone's been awfully busy already this morning. I didn't expect to see decorations up so soon, that's all."

"That's Ben and Lucas' doing," he said. "Halloween's only four days away, so I figured I'd let them have a little fun. You know morale always picks up around a holiday, even Halloween. Everyone's excited."

"Not everyone," she muttered.

A brow rose. "I thought you always_ liked _Halloween."

"I don't mind it, but after last year..." She let out a sigh. "I'm sure you can understand why I'm not exactly jumping for joy."

He nodded. "I guess spirit possession-"

"Nitrogen narcosis," she corrected.

"_Or _nitrogen narcosis would prevent you from doing that." He reached over to pat her hand. "But that was _last_ year, and this year, we're staying put. We're on patrol at the moment, so I promise fresh oxygen to the brain at all times and no ghost ships."

"Much as I'd like to hold you to that promise, you know as well as I that can change in a moment," she replied.

He sighed. "Fine, you win. Tell you what. If a mission comes up and there's anything questionable about it, you'll be free to stay here. If a doctor is necessary, Levin can go in your place."

"I appreciate that, thank you."

"You're welcome. But for now, can you try to enjoy it? Let loose and have fun. Nothing's going to happen."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I know, I'm being a bit silly, aren't I?"

"Not exactly; you have every right to be a bit cautious, but you know what they say. You fall off a horse, you have to get back on it."

"If I'm thrown off a horse, I will gladly get back on. But I will never, ever step foot on another supposedly haunted ship again."

He laughed softly. "Fair enough. So...does this mean you'll at least be attending the crew party?"

"I'm not sure," she replied with a shrug. "Why? Are you asking me to go with you?"

"I was hoping you would. Besides, you'll need someone to help you ward off evil spirits, won't you?"

"When you put it that way, how can I refuse?" she said, giving his arm a playful push.

"I'm glad to hear it." He motioned towards the doorway as the rest of the senior staff began to file in. "Seeing as we need to get down to business, we'll discuss the details later."

_-sQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQ-_

"...as long as there's nothing else?" Nathan looked around the room as the others shook their heads. "Then meeting adjourned. Have a good day, people."

"That was short and sweet," Kristin said as she got up and pushed her chair in. "I'll see you at lunch perhaps." She turned to leave when Nathan placed a halting hand on her arm.

"I have a little time before I need to be on the bridge; do you mind if I accompany you to the lab? I thought we could discuss costume ideas on the way."

She nodded, and the two walked into the corridor, seeing white sheets strewn about the walls to resemble ghosts. "The boys certainly worked hard on this," she said, pointing towards the wall.

"If only we could get them to work this hard on other things," he replied with a smile, ushering her into the mag-lev.

"As you said it boosts morale, and surprisingly, Ben's kept himself in check lately."

"True; I wonder if we should be prepared for a setback."

She laughed. "I certainly hope not. So...about costumes?"

"Yes, about that...do you have any ideas?"

She thought for a moment. "Nothing concrete. I just know I don't want to do anything too complicated. I think we can come up with costumes with things we have lying around."

"I was hoping you'd say that," he replied. "I have the perfect idea then; we can go as a Victorian couple."

"A Victorian couple?" She shook her head. "I don't exactly have anything Victorian lying around."

"Sure you do. Lillian's dress, remember?"

Her jaw dropped open slightly. "Oh..."

"You still have it, don't you?"

"Well, yes, but... I'm not so sure it's a good idea."

"Why not?" he pressed.

She sighed, unsure of how to answer. She didn't really have a very good explanation, other than the fact she felt uneasy about it.

He put an arm around her shoulders. "Kristin, it's just a dress. It can't harm you. Even if Lillian did exist, she's where she should be now. She doesn't mean you any harm."

"I know." She thought for a brief second and sighed. "All right, I'll wear it this one time for you...but you'd better make it worth my while."

"I promise," he replied, holding up his hand as they stepped out of the mag-lev and onto C-deck near the moon pool, which had also been given the Halloween touch. "They certainly went all out, didn't they?"

She nodded, noticing a rather intriguing painting placed on the wall right across from the moon pool. "Though this isn't something you'd find in a box of Halloween decorations, is it?"

From the looks of it, the painting seemed to be rather old, the colors of the paint faded. What looked to be a once-vibrant night sky now appeared as a dull blue. In the painting, however, were six figures. Five people were lying down in a circle, and it seemed as though their throats had been slashed. The way the bodies laid, though, the blood all converged into one pool in the center of the circle.

The sixth figure was very much alive, standing in the center of the circle of bodies. She couldn't tell if the person was intended to be wearing a mask or if he just happened to have the head of a black cat with horns on its head, but he also had large black wings that seemed to be that of a crow. His hands, however, were indeed human, and he sat in the middle of the puddle of blood, smearing it on his naked body. In the corner of the painting was a strange-looking symbol of a horned creature with pointed ears inside a circle painted in blood-red paint.

She felt a shiver crawl down her spine, instantly making her feel ill. "Why in the world would they ever want to put such a ghastly thing up?"

"I'm not sure," Nathan replied, "but I'm hoping it's just that they didn't quite understand what it was. I'm not sure I even know." He took the painting off the wall and put it under his arm. "Don't want people having nightmares over this thing. I'll lock it away in my quarters, and when I see Ben, I'll be giving him a stern lecture."

"Thank you," she replied with a nod. "Well, I suppose I ought to get some work done. See you at lunch?"

"Of course; I'll see you then."

_-sQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQ-_

As lunchtime rolled around, Kristin made her way to the mess hall. As she glanced towards the wall across from the moon pool, however, she frowned. The odd-looking painting was back in its place again. "Strange," she muttered to herself. "I was sure Nathan had taken that thing and locked it away." She shook her head and continued on her way. Maybe he'd already spoken to Ben and deemed it safe after all? She'd have to find out.

She entered the mess hall, seeing Nathan already seated, and waved. She picked out a sandwich and side salad and sat down. "How was your morning?" she asked, trying to keep the conversation light before asking about the painting.

"Uneventful," he replied. "Yours?"

"The same, mostly, but I-"

Nathan placed a hand on hers. "Hold that thought, please." He pointed towards the door, showing her that Ben and Lucas had just walked in. "Mr. Krieg," Nathan called, motioning Ben over to their table.

Ben obediently approached the table. "Have you gotten a chance to see what we've done to the boat, sir?"

"Indeed, I have...well, most of it anyway."

"Do you like it?" Lucas asked with his tray in hand, taking a seat next to the doctor. He nodded his head towards a group of skeletons and cobwebs in the corner. "I think those are my favorite."

"Yes, they're just bone-chilling," Nathan quipped before turning back to Ben. "I was particularly curious about that painting near the moon pool, however."

"That's pretty creepy, isn't it? I found it online and thought it would be perfect," he said with a grin.

Nathan raised an eyebrow. "And you didn't think it was a little inappropriate?"

"Inappropriate?" He shook his head. "It's just a little Halloween party painting, isn't it?"

Kristin nearly choked on her sandwich. "Is _that_ what you thought it was?"

"Just how well did you look at that painting before hanging it?" Nathan asked.

Ben shrugged. "Pretty well. At least, I thought I did. It's just a guy in some sort of weird costume."

"Smearing himself in blood," Kristin choked out.

Lucas held up his hands. "Don't look at me. Ben did the moon pool area all by himself."

"Thanks for throwing me under the bus, kid," Ben muttered.

"Anytime," Lucas replied, flashing him a grin.

"Look, Cap, I...I'm sorry. I guess I didn't pay too much attention to it after all," Ben finally admitted. "Like I said, I found it online. It was packed with a whole bunch of other Halloween stuff inside a chest, and I just hung it up. I didn't know it was some guy smearing himself with blood. I'll go take it down right now."

"There's no need; I've already taken care of that," Nathan told him. "Given the bizarre nature of it, I took it down and put it away in my quarters. Thankfully, besides the doctor and myself, I don't think anyone else saw it."

"Wait...did you say you took it down?" Kristin asked.

"Yes. You were with me when I did."

She nodded. "Only when I passed by the moon pool on my way here, I saw that you hadn't."

"What?"

"It was still hanging up," she said quietly, suddenly noticing that all eyes in the room were focused on them.

"Okay, people, nothing to see here," Nathan told them before coming to Kristin's side. "Are you feeling all right?" he whispered.

"If you're asking if I imagined it, I certainly did not," she replied, being sure to match his tone so the entire mess didn't overhear.

"Kristin, I put that painting in my desk drawer and locked it myself," he said gently.

She frowned. "If you don't believe me, then I'll show you. Come on."

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Not only had Nathan followed her, but so did Ben and Lucas, along with Katie, Tim, Jonathan, and Miguel, who'd been at the adjacent table. Kristin didn't mind; it was a small boat, and she knew word about this would spread like wildfire eventually. Plus, she knew she was right. Well, rather, she hoped she was. She'd never had a problem with imagining things before, and she didn't want to start now. But upon nearing the moon pool, relief washed over her when she saw it hanging there, plain as day. At least she knew she wasn't crazy.

"I don't believe it," Nathan muttered, shaking his head. He turned to Ben. "You didn't have two of those things, did you?"

"No, I swear it."

Then Nathan started laughing.

Kristin's brow furrowed. "Did I miss something?"

"Very funny," he told her. "You went into my room and got it out as a prank, right?"

"No, I'd never go into your room without your permission. Besides, didn't you say you'd put it in a _locked_ drawer?" She shook her head. "I don't have a key, and I'd never use that wretched thing in a prank."

"Maybe that's what the ad meant," Ben commented. "The listing said it was haunted."

Everyone turned to look at him.

"Did...did you say haunted?" Katie asked.

"Yeah, the_ AuctionNex _ad claimed it to be haunted, but I had assumed it was a bunch of bunk," Ben explained. "I'd figured they had just said it to make a sale. I got the whole thing for five bucks."

"Whole thing?" Miguel said. "You mean you got other weird paintings like this?"

"No, not paintings. But this was inside a chest with some old candles, incense...things like that. We actually didn't use any of the other items," he replied.

"Wait, did you say _AuctionNex_?" Lucas chimed in. "There wasn't some old book that seemed be covered in human skin, was there?"

"Very funny."

"No, I'm serious," Lucas replied. "You've seen _Evil Dead_, haven't you?"

"That was just a movie," Tim replied. "Things like that don't happen in real life. At least not very often. I don't think Ben unknowingly discovered an ancient Book of the Dead." His brow furrowed in question. "Did you?"

Ben shook his head. "Of course not. I was just trying to be a frugal shopper and get enough decorations for the boat for a good price. Besides, it's not like it's _really_ haunted. I'm sure it was just a fluke, just as I'm sure there's a logical explanation as to why it showed up out here again." He patted Nathan's shoulder. "You sure you haven't been working too hard, Cap? Maybe you just forgot you-"

"I did _not_ forget," Nathan replied. "I am positive I put it away."

"Getting back to this haunted thing," Lucas continued, "it might not be so far-fetched."

"What do you mean?"

"A lot of famous item claiming to be haunted turned out to actually be...and they were sold right over the Internex on _AuctionNex _or similar sites. Maybe the cap and the doc aren't crazy. Maybe something put it back on the wall."

"What...what sort of something?" Tim asked nervously.

"Well, a ghost," Lucas said in a matter-of-fact tone. "But don't worry; I'm sure it's not dangerous. It wouldn't be the first time we've dealt with ghosts, right? And look how well that turned out."

"Not ghosts; nitrogen narcosis," Kristin reminded him, though she felt a chill run through her bones.

"Whatever you say," Lucas replied. "The fact of the matter is that this painting is haunted. That's what I think anyway."

"But, Lucas, I-"

"Why don't you show us the original posting, Mr. Krieg? Perhaps we can get some answers that way, hm?" Kristin suggested. "Speculating won't get us anywhere."

"That seems like the best thing," Nathan agreed, taking the painting off the wall. "And this time, I won't be leaving this thing out of my sight."

_-sQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQ-_

Ben brought everyone to his quarters and immediately brought up the web page for all to see on his laptop.

Nathan stood over his shoulder and read the post out loud. _"A chest full of accursed items: I acquired this chest at an estate sale, but since I've had it in my home, weird occurrences have been happening. I've stored it in the shed for the time being, but I'm not a fan of spirits and want it gone_." He turned to Ben. "And that little story wasn't a tip-off for you?"

He rolled his eyes. "Because no one ever lies over the Internex, right?" He clicked around the site a bit. "See this one? A Coke can that holds the soul of this guy's dead cat for a hundred bucks. Or this..." He clicked a different link. "A stuffed penguin that's supposed to be inhabited by the soul of this woman's deceased daughter, yet she's selling it for twenty dollars?" He gave a shake of his head. "No way are all these items really haunted. People will do anything to make a quick buck."

"And you would know," Katie said with a smirk.

"At least I can spot them from a mile away. I don't get had that way."

"Ben has a point, though," Kristin said. "Some of these stories do seem rather fabricated."

Nathan nodded. "Right, it doesn't meant this chest is haunted. Where is it, by the way?"

Ben walked towards his bunk and pulled out a worn wooden chest with something carved into the lid.

"What's written on there?" Lucas asked.

Ben shrugged. "Something in Spanish, I think."

"Latin, actually," Tim corrected. "_Libera nos a malo_. Deliver us from evil."

Katie shook her head. "That's not ominous at all."

Ben held up his hands. "It still doesn't mean it's haunted."

"What else is inside?" Nathan asked, moving to stand next to him.

Ben lifted the lid and took out the items one by one to show the others. "Some old candles, a bit of incense, and a piece of chalk. The rest all seems rather harmless to me."

"Or it could be for some weird spell of some sort," Lucas pointed out. "You could have very well unleashed hell just by opening that chest."

"Calm down, everyone," Nathan said. "Look, Ben's absolutely right."

Jonathan's brow rose. "He is?"

The captain nodded. "Surely, you don't believe in this stuff being haunted, Commander?"

"Of course not," he replied with a smile. "It's just that I never thought I'd hear anyone say Ben was right about anything."

"Haha, very funny," Ben said.

"All joking aside," Nathan continued, "the truth is, I might have forgotten to lock that painting up. I remember taking it off the wall and putting it under my arm, but then I had to get to the bridge. I honestly don't remember putting in my room. Maybe I just hung it back up and thought I'd take care of it later."

"You're sure?" Kristin said with a shake of her head. "That doesn't sound like something you'd do."

He shrugged. "Well, do you really think some sort of invisible force put it back? I thought you didn't believe in spirits?"

"I don't." She glanced around at the skeptical faces in the room. "But it does seem to be the most logical explanation. We really have no other proof at the moment."

"Doesn't mean we can't _find_ proof," Lucas piped up. "I could put my computer skills to work." He gave Nathan a hopeful look.

"How very kind of you to offer to push your regular duties aside, Mr. Wolenczak," Nathan replied, "but I think we all just need to forget about this chest. I'd also like you all to kindly forget about the supposed legend associated with it. We don't need to create any hysteria, and I don't need my crew worrying over nothing. Therefore, everyone will keep what they know...or think they know...about this confidential, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," they all replied in unison.

Nathan then placed the painting back in the chest. I will keep this in my quarters from now on." He glanced to the doctor. "You can be my witness that this time, I am putting it away. As for the rest of you, finish up your lunch hour and get back to work. There's nothing to worry about."

_-sQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQ-_

"You don't mind being my witness, do you?" Nathan asked as the others obeyed the orders he'd given.

"Not at all," she replied. "But if you don't mind me asking..." She lowered her voice. "Did you really forget to put that painting away like you thought?"

He shrugged. "I must have. Besides, isn't it easier to believe that rather than some unseen spirit moving it back. What would the purpose of that be anyway? Just to play a prank on us...or Darwin?" He laughed. "Can you imagine a ghost that only haunts dolphins? Surely, you have to admit how silly that sounds."

"Certainly," she replied with a smile. "I'm just not sure why you'd have put it back on the wall."

"I can't give you an answer on that, but if we keep trying to over-analyze it, we're only going to scare ourselves. It's just a painting along with a few other items. They're just things, and they can't harm us."

"You're absolutely right. I guess with my apprehension about the upcoming day, I let my imagine run away with me...and so did everyone else."

"It's understandable," he replied, picking up the chest. "That's exactly why I'm locking it away. Out of sight, out of mind, right?"

_-sQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQ-_

After seeing that Nathan did indeed lock the chest away, Kristin returned to the lab, and the rest of the afternoon was completely normal. In fact, she was able to put the memory of that horrific painting behind her and pushed it of her mind. She'd become so engrossed in an experiment she'd been working on about the effects of carbon dioxide acidification on sea urchins that she'd barely noticed how late it had gotten. She nearly jumped out of her chair when Lucas touched her shoulder.

"Sorry, Doc," he told her. "I didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to let you know I finished typing up those files for you. Is there anything else you wanted me to do?"

She gave him a smile. "No thank you, dear. Go and have a good evening."

"You're not going to dinner?"

"I'll probably grab a snack from the galley a bit later; I'd like to work on this a little longer. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure thing, Doc. Goodnight."

She watched as Lucas left followed by the other science personnel working that day until she was alone. Seeing as there was no one else in the lab, she decided to put on a bit of soft music while she worked and then turned back to the tank she had set up with the sea urchins. She continued with her observations when she thought she heard approaching footsteps.

"Did you forget something?" she asked, not bothering to look up to see who it was. However, she didn't receive an immediate answer, so she finally turned around to find no one there. "Hello?" she called.

After a minute or so, she's assumed she hadn't heard footsteps after all and shook her head. "Get a grip on yourself, Kristin. You're hearing things." Giving a shrug, she turned back to her sea urchins.

Thirty minutes passed when she thought she heard footsteps yet again. She glanced to the door, thinking perhaps the sounds she'd been hearing were coming from the corridor, but that, too, was empty. She listened a little longer, but all was quiet, save for the music. Letting out a sigh, she once again determined she must have imagined it and decided she ought to pack up for the night. "Just after I finish this section of notes," she said with a nod, turning up the music a touch to prevent her mind from creating any more fictional noises.

She hurried to finish writing the effects of urchin number three when the music suddenly stopped. She froze, realizing she couldn't have imagined the click of the radio being shut off. She was too afraid to turn around. "Is...is someone there?" she choked out, trying her best to keep her voice steady.

Though she didn't receive an answer, she heard the footsteps come just a bit closer and warm breath on the back of her neck. Shutting her eyes tightly, she swallowed hard before turning to look. Upon seeing no one there, she'd had enough. Urchin three would just have to wait; she quickly ran out the doorway, not even bothering to clean up her work space.

As soon as she entered the corridor, she collided with something and let out a cry, stumbling backwards and falling flat on her bottom. Stunned, she didn't immediately realize what she'd hit until she felt hands on her shoulders. She instantly remembered what she'd been running from and was sure whatever it was had caught her. "No!" she screamed, struggling with all her might.

"Kris?" a familiar voice said to her. "It's me. Easy, easy. It's me."

She instantly stopped struggling, her mouth falling open in confusion upon seeing Nathan's face creased in worry.

He put his arm around her shoulders. "I wasn't trying to scare you. Are you all right?"

She nodded, still in shock.

"Why don't we get up off the floor?" he suggested, holding out his hand to her.

Feeling her cheeks go warm, she accepted his hand and allowed him to pull her up. She then brushed herself off. "I...I'm fine," she said quietly. "I didn't mean to bump into you. I was just..."

"Running?" he offered.

"Y-yes, but..." She didn't know what else to say, unsure if what she'd just experienced was real or imagined, but her scientific side was winning the battle and telling her she was just tired. That was the logical explanation, wasn't it? "I'm sorry," she recovered lamely.

"No harm done. I was just coming by to see if you'd needed help. Lucas said you were working late." He paused and eyed her carefully. "You sure you're all right?"

She nodded. "I decided to call it a night and see what I can rustle up to eat in the galley."

"And you were so hungry that you decided to run?"

She shook her head. "N-no. Y-yes. I mean..." She sighed. "I...I might have been hearing things, and I got a little scared."

"Hearing things?"

She nodded. "It sounded like there was someone else in the lab with me, but every time I checked, there was no one. I thought I'd forgotten all about that painting, but I think my subconscious hasn't. My mind was playing tricks on me, I'm sure."

"Sounds that way. Well, I'm glad to know you're not really in any danger. And since you're not working any more tonight, there's no reason I need to bother you. I'll leave you to relax. Have a good night."

She watched as he started to walk away when she realized she still felt rather uneasy. "Wait, please."

He obediently stopped and turned back to her.

"If you don't mind, maybe you could sit with me? I'm still a little shaken, even if I imagined it all."

He smiled. "Of course I can do that. I didn't have any plans anyway. The cook put the leftovers from dinner in the galley refrigerator, so I'm sure we can find you something."

_-sQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQ-_

One hour later, Kristin had eaten, and she and Nathan were both in the galley talking quietly over tea.

"Do you feel a bit better now?" he asked.

She gave him a smile. "Yes, thank you. I appreciate you sitting with me. You've certainly helped." She stifled a yawn. "Oh, excuse me. I think the tea is making me sleepy."

"Well, it's been a long day," he told her. "Do you think you're going to be able to sleep without worrying about the bogeyman?"

She laughed. "Yes, of course. I told you my mind was playing tricks on me."

"I'm just glad I was able to put it at ease. Hopefully, tomorrow, we can go back to a normal and boring day."

"I don't think I've ever wanted a boring day more," she said with a nod.

After taking care of their dirty dishes, Nathan turned to her. "Well, are you ready to turn in?"

She yawned again. "More than ready; I may fall asleep right here."

"We can't have that." He hooked his arm through hers and led her to the crew quarters. "Tomorrow will be much better," he assured her. "Sleep well, Doctor."

"You, too, Captain. Goodnight."

_-sQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQ-_

Though she had no trouble falling asleep, staying asleep was quite a different matter when Kristin awoke in the middle of the night to strange scraping sounds. She sat straight up in bed and peered into the darkness, trying to determine where the noises were coming from. She listened intently for several moments when she realized she didn't hear anything anymore. Giving a shake of her head, she decided she must have been dreaming.

She pushed herself out of bed, deciding that as long as she was up, she ought to use the bathroom. After doing so, she snuggled back under the covers, intending to go back to sleep when she heard more scraping noises. U_gh, _she thought. _Don't tell me it's the lab situation all over again._ Not only that, she couldn't decide if she was imagining it again or if it was really happening.

She sat up and listened quietly. It sounded like fingernails. Or claws, perhaps? Her heart sank at that thought, but she quickly pushed it out of her mind when she heard knocking as well. _Scratch, knock, scratch. Scratch, knock, scratch._

Though it was normal to hear strange sounds on a submarine, she'd never heard anything quite like that. Occasionally, one could hear a metallic clunking in the air shafts or the creaking of turning gears from the engine room. _Scratch, knock, scratch._ It sounded as though it was getting louder.

"H-hello?" she called. "Is...is someone there?"

As she expected, however, she didn't receive an answer. "Naturally." She swallowed hard, knowing she was going to have to go see who -or what- was making the noise or she'd never get back to sleep. She shut her eyes tightly, took a deep breath, and turned on the bedside lamp.

After looking around the room, she decided it all looked normal and completely harmless. For a brief second, she felt better until she heard the disturbing sounds again. _Scratch. Scratch. Knock. Scratch._

She then had a very different thought. What if someone needed medical attention? Perhaps he or she had fallen and had broken a limb right near her door. She felt a pang of guilt as she quickly got out of bed and threw open her door. She found no one there, however.

Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. She was sure she heard noises this time; she couldn't have imagined it all again...could she? Determined to prove she to herself she wasn't going mad, she stepped into the corridor to look around. She looked to the right and found it empty; to the left, she saw one of the security personnel members, Ensign Kevin Ward.

He waved at her, giving her a smile. "Everything all right, ma'am?"

"Yes, mostly." She walked towards him. "You didn't see anyone outside my door a moment ago, did you? Someone knocking?"

"No, ma'am, I haven't seen anyone, and I've been on watch a few hours now. You said you heard knocking?"

"I...I thought I did..." She ran a hand through her disheveled hair. "But maybe I just imagined it?"

"You might not have. You know sometimes, the boat makes odd noises. Might've been something from the engine room or from the boiler system."

"Maybe, though I'd never heard those sort of noises before."

He shrugged. "Could mean a pipe seal is going out." He took his PAL unit off his belt. "I'll talk to the team and have them double check things, just in case. But there's really nothing to worry about."

She nodded. "You're absolutely right. I just had to be sure."

"That's understandable, but don't worry. Nothing will happen on my watch." He gave her a smile.

"Thank you. Well, goodnight."

"Goodnight." He gave her a nod before talking into his PAL.

She sighed and walked back to her quarters. Perhaps he was right; maybe there was some slight malfunction in the engine or with the boiler system. She shut the door and lay back in bed, trying to get back to sleep.

A few minutes later, however, she heard the scratching noises again. She groaned to herself and covered her head with the comforter. "It's just the boat," she told herself. "Ignore it and go to sleep."

Surprisingly, her head listened and she finally started to feel drowsy again. She was nearly asleep when she felt a tug on her comforter, throwing it to the floor.

Immediately sitting up, she looked at the foot of her bed to see it empty. She then noticed an awful stench, like rotten eggs. She covered her nose with her hand to block out the smell. Whatever was wrong with the boat, she hoped they fixed it soon.

Deciding the comforter had just gotten hooked on the edge of the bunk, she picked it up off the floor and arranged it over her again before lying back down.

Not long after, though, she felt a tug on it again, and she nearly tumbled to the floor with it. As she stared into the darkness, she was sure she saw a shadow scurrying away. Her brow furrowed as she shook her head. There was nothing in there to cause shadows on the wall.

As she was trying to decide if her eyes were just playing tricks on her, she heard a growl from the corner of the room. Her eyes darted in that direction, but she couldn't see anything. Instead, she backed away towards the head of her bed and switched on her lamp.

She frantically looked around the room but didn't see anything. There was no one in the room at all, apparently. Had she really just imagined all that?

She couldn't be sure, but one thing she did notice is that the strange noises had stopped. She heard blissful silence. Had the problem finally been fixed? She couldn't be sure, but this time, she decided to leave the light on, just in case.

_-sQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQ-_

The beeping of the alarm came all too soon, though she'd managed to sleep through the rest of the night without incident. That still didn't account for the hour or two she'd lost. She had half a mind to hit the snooze button when she heard familiar voices outside her door.

"There was something in my room last night." That was Katie.

"I heard something too. There were some weird scratching sounds." That was Jonathan.

"So did I," she heard someone else say.

Curious, she threw on her robe and walked out the door to see a large group of crew members huddled around Nathan.

"People, you need to calm down," he told them. "I've just been informed by Chief Crocker that the odd noises were due to a problem with the boiler system. It's been fixed now, so there's nothing to worry about."

"That doesn't explain the fact that there was something in my room," Katie said again.

"And there was a really bad smell," Lucas added. "Did anyone else notice it?"

A chorus of yeses followed.

"Maybe it was a dream?" Nathan offered.

"At the same time?" Tim asked.

"You know as well as I that this wouldn't be the first collective dream we've had."

"We?" Kristin pushed her way to the front of the group. "You mean you had it too?"

He nodded. "But that doesn't-"

"I know you said we shouldn't worry about that chest, Cap, but maybe we should?" Lucas suggested. "That wasn't exactly the most pleasant dream."

Nathan ran a hand through his hair. "All right. Staff meeting in fifteen minutes. The rest of you, get to work, and try to forget about all this for now." He turned to Kristin. "And seeing as Dr. Levin is the only member of your staff who's studied paranormal experiences, be sure he attends the meeting as well."

"Done," she said with a nod.

_-sQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQ-_

"I do wish you'd have shown this to me right away," Joshua Levin said upon seeing the painting once the meeting had started. "You think this is the reason we all had that bizarre dream?"

Nathan shrugged. "You know this isn't the first time that's happened, though this is the first time it's been...disturbing. I also don't have an answer, but it's at least has caused a bit of an uproar among the senior staff."

"And the junior staff as well, though I didn't think any of them saw the painting," Kristin added.

"They didn't," Nathan replied. "And I did give strict orders that it be kept confidential."

"I didn't say anything," Ben said, holding up his hands. "I'm innocent, I swear."

"And no one was accusing you, Mr. Krieg. That doesn't mean that some of them didn't see it after the little mix-up."

"Mix-up?" Joshua asked.

"Yes. You see, I had intended to take it down and put it away, but I got sidetracked and forgot. It was left on the wall longer than intended," the captain explained.

"And the listing did say it was haunted," Lucas reminded him. "Which by the way, I did do some searching on the Internex last night. I...I know you told me not to, but I didn't find much of anything, expect the symbol." He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket that had an image printed on it. "Apparently, it's the crest of a demon known as Mazzaroth."

"Mazzaroth?" Tim repeated. "I don't recall learning about that demon in parochial school."

"Apparently, it's a rather obscure deity that dates back to the early days of Christianity. Worshiped by Pagans, the Christian Church wanted to abolish such deities, so they turned it into a demon. All I could find is that he's supposed to command five legions of demons and that he's got the head of a cat and the wings of a crow. Anyone who conjures him is said to receive great power and untold wealth but at a cost." He looked around at the others. "I couldn't find much else, but I'm guessing that this..." He pointed towards the painting. "...is supposed to be a ritual of some sort."

A hush fell over the room as everyone pondered this until Joshua spoke again. "I agree that Lucas might be right. This isn't the first piece of artwork depicting religious ceremonies or rituals. I have a friend at Cologne who deals with ancient occultic demonology and practices. If we could adjourn for a short time, I can see if he will agree to speak with us."

"That would be greatly appreciated, thank you," Nathan told him.

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An hour later, everyone gathered in the ward room once again, this time to see an unfamiliar face of a rotund, grey-haired man wearing wire-rimmed glasses with a pleasant smile on the vid-screen.

Once everyone was seated, he said, "Hello, everyone. I am Professor Augustus Hasenfus." Although it was clear he had a German accent, he spoke English very well.

"I appreciate you meeting with us on such short notice, Professor Hasenfus," Nathan said.

The professor waved a hand. "Oh, it was no trouble at all, and please, we needn't be so formal. I've known Joshua since he was my student, so you may call me Augustus, Captain Bridger."

"Then please call me Nathan," he replied.

The professor gave a nod. "So I understand that you've acquired a painting of some sort depicting the demon god, Mazzaroth?"

"Yes, my supply officer found it on the Internex," Nathan replied.

The professor laughed softly. "_AuctionNex_?"

Ben sat forward in his chair. "How did you know?"

"This isn't my first rodeo," he replied. "That is what you say in America, isn't it?"

"We were under the impression that most of the supposedly haunted items on the Internex were hoaxes," Nathan explained.

"Most are, but I consider the Internex to be a bit of a Pandora's box. Don't open it unless you're prepared for what you might find. Sometimes, horrific things are uncovered."

Kristin bit her lip. "So you think the painting really is haunted?"

"Well, we'll get to that. First, let me explain a bit about Mazzaroth. There is very little written on him because the early Christians were extremely frightened of him. He's known as a soul eater."

"A...a soul eater?" Katie stammered.

The professor nodded. "Though he would occasionally target individuals, his favorite tended to be families. It's written that he needed blood sacrifices to appease him. This tended to be the slaughter of a cow or goat. The Christian Church, however, worked to abolish such practices, deeming them barbaric. Anyone participating in such rituals was put to death." He leafed through a few papers on the desk in front of him. "Obviously, Mazzaroth didn't like being neglected. Therefore, he supposedly would possess a member of a family. That particular person would then kill the rest of their kin, leaving Mazzaroth to take those souls to his realm of Hell and consume them as he saw fit. There aren't a lot of accounts written down about this, mostly because the early Christians were afraid, not only of Mazzaroth, but also of having the Church catch them with any depictions of Mazzaroth or the stories about him."

He then showed them a few other drawings and paintings he'd found, all of them looking similar to the painting they'd found. "Most of these drawings were destroyed because people also worried that Mazzaroth lived in them. They all bear the crest of Mazzaroth, usually in the corner." He pointed them out in each drawing

"Is...is there any truth to this? Did anyone really become possessed by this demon through one of these drawings?" Nathan asked.

"I have found an account or two written down, but as you might imagine, it can't really be verified as fact. I suppose it's more on whether you choose to believe it or not. Do I believe it?" He shrugged. "In my line of work, I definitely can't discount it."

Tim brought his fingers to his chin. "So does Mazzaroth live in our painting?"

"I can't really answer that," he replied. "But I wouldn't rule it out either. This wouldn't be the first time I've dealt with a haunted item from the Internex. I recently helped a family being plagued by a possessed doll."

"A doll?" Jonathan scoffed. "What harm could a doll do?"

"It's no joke," Augustus said. "And while you're absolutely correct that a doll seems rather harmless, it was the demon inside of it that was a problem. It should also be explained that demons don't really possess_ things_."

"So our painting isn't haunted?" Kristin asked.

The professor shook his head. "Not in the actual sense. If this painting is causing some paranormal occurrences, however, it's most likely a conduit."

Tim's brow rose. "A what?"

"A conduit," Augustus said again. "A temporary holding place for the spirit or demon inhabiting it. When demons enter our world, they only want one thing. They don't possess things; they possess people. If there's one attached to the painting, it's looking for a human host."

Jaws dropped open and worried glances were exchanged.

Nathan asked, "So we're likely in danger?"

"Again, I can't say," Augustus replied. "But my suggestion is to get rid of it immediately, just in case. Put it in a deep hole and bury it, preventing anyone from finding it again."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Is there another option for the time being? Being underwater, it's not exactly feasible to bury it at the moment."

"I understand, Captain. Well, is there a place on your submarine that you could isolate it? Lock it away where none of you go?"

"We could lock it in the brig?" Katie suggested.

"That's a good idea, Commander," Nathan replied before turning back to the screen. "But what if we destroyed it? Wouldn't that do the same thing?"

The professor shook his head. "I wouldn't suggest it. It might have the opposite effect and cause even more problems. Lock it away and as soon as you can, get rid of it."

Nathan nodded. "We could put it on a launch, though."

Augustus shook his head. "While I assume a launch can be put on autopilot, it's too risky a move. And I wouldn't trust it alone with anyone, just in case."

"So locking it away will solve all our problems?" Ben asked.

"Hopefully," Augustus replied.

Kristin's brow furrowed in worry. "And if it doesn't?"

"Then you'll need to take more drastic action, but let's just hope we don't need to worry about that." He paused. "Are any of you blood related, though?"

Nathan shook his head. "That would certainly help our case, wouldn't it?"

"Possibly, though Mazzaroth isn't always so discriminating. Considering you work so closely together, you're a family of sorts."

"Wonderful," Kristin said dryly. "Are there any other ways to prevent this thing from tormenting us?"

He thought for a moment. "Anyone who hasn't been baptized is the most susceptible to the demon. As a precaution, Nathan, I'd suggest moving anyone not baptized off the boat. As for the rest of you, pray. Any form of prayer is the best way to ward off evil. I am sorry I can't be of more help, though."

Nathan shook his head. "No, Professor, you've been more than helpful, thank you."

"I do wish you all the best of luck. As I said, do let me know if you need anything else. Joshua has my number."

"Thank you, again," Nathan said before cutting the link. "Well, that was very enlightening," he said to the group.

"And worrying," Kristin added. "I think I speak for everyone else when I say I can't wait until that thing is off the _seaQuest_."

"Soon," Nathan told her. "And while I know what the professor said was disconcerting, we're going to do exactly as he said and lock this thing up along with the chest it came in. As for the rest of you, please don't say anything to the rest of the crew, though I am going to need some help in finding out who's been baptized and who hasn't."

"Why don't we make a boat-wide announcement over the intercom?" Ben said.

"Not a bad idea, Mr. Krieg, but what do we tell them?"

"That it's some odd UEO experiment?" he replied with a shrug.

Nathan laughed. "That might be the best excuse we have, but first, let me try to think of a way to explain this to the brass."

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A rather routine day quickly turned hectic as approximately half the crew, both military and science personnel, were loaded onto launches and sent up-world while Nathan and the security crew focused on locking the brig and completely sealing off the lower level to ensure the rest of the crew's safety.

There was an upside to having to compensate for the missing personnel, Kristin decided. Having to work a bit harder meant she didn't have time to worry, and from what it seemed, keeping the chest contained had actually seemed to solve their problems. At least she hadn't noticed anything odd nor did she hear about anyone else having issues.

It wasn't until nineteen hundred hours that she had a moment to relax. Joshua told her he'd handle the night shift and that she should go get some rest, but just as she was leaving med bay, she happened to meet Nathan on sea deck.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," he commented.

She noticed he looked as tired as she felt, though. "Rough day?"

"You can say that again. I was just coming by to see how you were doing over here."

"We're okay," she assured him. "Joshua's holding down the fort. I was just about to see if I can find something to eat and turn in. I wasn't able to get away for lunch."

"Me either. Commander Hitchcock is at the bridge now; she gave me strict orders that I need to relax."

She laughed softly. "That sounds like her." She then realized what he'd said, however. "Commander Hitchcock? You mean we lost Commander Ford?"

He nodded. "He's Jewish. They don't have baptism by definition, though they do have some sort of purification ritual, as I understand it. Still, I felt it best that he should go."

"I'm sure that went over well."

"You know him as well as I do; he wasn't pleased, but when I assured him that thing would be off the boat by the weekend, he agreed," Nathan explained, leaning against the moon pool.

Kristin followed suit. "Though it's been rather busy, things do seem calmer, don't they?"

"Indeed," he replied. "It seems that we may have the situation contained after all."

"Thank goodness." Her brow furrowed in question. "Did you tell the UEO the truth about all this?"

"Are you mad?" He shook his head. "Since they know nothing about what happened on the _George_, I didn't want to have to go through the long explanation. I just told them we had a chickenpox outbreak."

She laughed. "Nathan, no one gets chickenpox anymore; there's been a vaccine available for years."

"We know that, but the brass doesn't. Remember that underwater colony we visited last month? I told them there was an outbreak there. You know as well as I that not all colonies get proper medical care."

She nodded. "Well, as long as they don't question it, I assume it's our little secret. And as you said, it won't be a worry in a few days. I was wondering about this prayer business, though?"

"I know, and while I still don't want the whole crew knowing about the sudden change in routine, I'm not sure how to handle that. I suppose I could just tell them it's UEO orders; do you think anyone would question it?"

"Mindless military drones thinking for themselves? Never!"

"I'm serious, Kris. I don't want to take any chances with this thing, and I'm sure you don't either," he said with a sigh.

She placed a hand on his arm. "I know; I'm sorry." She thought for a moment. "Well...why not just tell them it's something we're trying something new for just this week, and it's something to help boost morale? It could be a few moments of silence for loved ones we've lost, and then we could say The Lord's Prayer? I think that's universal, hm?"

"That's a brilliant idea," he said, giving her a smile. "Thank you."

She shrugged. "Don't mention it. Have you eaten?"

He shook his head. "What do you say we grab a bite to eat, deal with this prayer business, and get some sleep?"

"That sounds heavenly," she said with a nod.

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After eating and handling the prayer, Kristin retired to her quarters, but she wanted a real shower with water, not the ions. "Just a quick one," she said with a nod. Though they were supposed to treat water as a precious luxury, she decided she earned her right to splurge a bit.

She walked into her bathroom and turned on the tap, placing her hand in the heavy stream and feeling the temperature. It was pleasantly warm. She undressed, stepped inside, and closed the door behind her. She shut her eyes and allowed the water to soothe her tired muscles for a few moments when she thought she heard her PAL unit beeping.

"Oh, bloody hell," she muttered, letting out a sigh. She moved to turn the tap off, stepped outside, wrapped a towel around herself, and walked into the other room to find her PAL. "Westphalen," she answered. _This better be good, _she thought, trying to stop herself from wishing bodily harm on whomever was on the other end of the line.

However, she was met with complete silence. She made sure all buttons were turned on as they ought to be and spoke again. "Hello?"

She tapped on it and spoke yet again, this time hitting the 'contact all' button. "Hello, this is Dr. Westphalen. Was someone trying to contact me just a moment ago?"

"Kristin?"

It was Nathan. "Yes, were you trying to call me?"

"No, I don't think so. I was just lying in bed reading. Your PAL went off?"

"I thought it did. I was in the shower when I swore I heard it beeping, but...I must have been mistaken. Sorry to have bothered you."

"You didn't. No worries, but as far as I know, no one was trying to get a hold of you. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

"I'll try; you, too," she told him before cutting the link. She shook her head as she set her PAL back on the bedside table where she kept it. "I was sure I'd heard it, but I guess not."

She walked back to the bathroom, determined to finish her shower in peace. She turned the water back on and stepped inside, this time being sure to wash right away. As she was rinsing the shampoo out of her hair, however, the water shut off.

She swore under her breath and checked the timer. She still had eight minutes left, so that wasn't the problem. "I can't believe this is happening. Someone just doesn't want me to have a shower." Though she didn't think it was going to work, she decided to try to turn the faucet. It easily turned back on.

"What in the world?" She sighed, deciding that it must have been some sort of malfunction. She'd be sure to mention it to maintenance as soon as she was finished, and she intended not to dally about. As she was washing up, though, she heard knocking.

"Really? I'm not allowed to have just a few minutes of peace?" She shook her head. "Just a minute!" she called. "I'll be right there."

The knocking became even louder, however. In fact, it was more like banging, and it felt as though it was shaking the entire room. She quickly finished rinsing and got out of the shower as she was hit with that rotten egg smell again.

She dried off as fast as she could, threw on her robe and hurried to the door, but when she opened it, she found no one there.

She ran a hand through her hair. "Not again," she whispered, looking down both directions of the hall to see if anyone might be nearby. There was no one, however.

She bit her lip, trying to decide what to do next, and while her head told her to get out of the room now, she felt she was a bit under-dressed. She shut the door and made a bee-line to her dresser to change. The stench appeared to be getting stronger, and the banging continued.

She quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and was in the middle of grabbing a t-shirt when she heard a blood-curdling scream. She threw her shirt over her head and bolted towards the door to open it.

She found Katie standing there, white as a sheet and pointing towards something in the distance. Ben had gotten there before she had, and Miguel, Tim, and Nathan had also rushed out of their rooms as well.

Ben pulled his distraught ex-wife into his arms while Nathan looked to the others. "Anyone know what happened?"

Katie gently pushed Ben away and wiped a few tears from her eyes. "There...there was someone in my room." Her eyebrows knitted together. "Or something?" She shook her head. "Whatever it was, I...I'd wanted to get away, so I...I ran into the hall, but it...it followed me." She lowered her voice. "And it spoke to me."

Kristin put a comforting hand on her arm. "Spoke to you?"

The younger woman nodded as tears welled up in her eyes once again. "It...it said it wanted my family dead." She then motioned to the end of the corridor. "And whatever it was did that."

Everyone turned to look in the direction she was pointing. Whatever it was had brought the chest back; it sat seemingly harmless at the end of the corridor.

Nathan shook his head. "I don't believe it."

"They're here!" Ben said with a light laugh as everyone turned to glare at him. "What, you all can't take a joke?"

"It's obviously the wrong time for that," Miguel replied, giving him a gentle push. "Have a little class."

"Hey, I have class, and I think it's-"

"Boys, please," Kristin chided gently. "This isn't the time for arguing either." She turned to Nathan. "I'll have Joshua contact the professor right away."

He nodded and turned to Tim. "Send out an announcement. I want everyone together. Gather them on the on sea deck; that's the best place large enough to hold everyone. Have them bring sleeping bags, pillows, blankets... Tell them it's a precautionary measure. And no one goes off alone, understood?"

"Aye, sir."

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Less than an hour later, Nathan and Kristin, along with Joshua, were in the midst of yet another conversation with Professor Hasenfus.

"According to my Lieutenant Commander, that thing spoke to her," Nathan told him. "It just seems to be toying with us."

"I'm sure it is, Captain," the professor replied, giving a shake of his head. "Obviously, isolation didn't work."

"It worked for a little while," Kristin explained. "But it tends to wait until nighttime to wreak havoc."

"They do tend to favor the darkness," he admitted with a sigh. "Well, obviously, it's time for drastic measures. Where exactly are you at the moment?"

"In the middle of the Pacific Ocean," Nathan replied. About four hundred miles off the eastern coast of New Zealand."

Augustus typed a few things into a laptop on his desk. "You are in luck."

The three exchanged confused glances. "Why is that?" Nathan asked.

"I have a friend, a Father Stephen Palmer; he's an Episcopal priest who lives in New Zealand and specializes in such cases."

"Cases?" Joshua said. "You mean the paranormal?"

"Not exactly. I mean demon possession. With the use of a launch, he could be on your boat within the next few hours."

"That's grand," Nathan replied. "And he'll get this thing to stop?"

The professor nodded. "He knows what he's doing. You're in good hands."

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Two hours later, Nathan, Kristin, and Joshua met Father Palmer in launch bay. Though she wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, Kristin had thought he'd be older. He was rather young, somewhere in his mid-forties, she guessed, with a head full of thick, dark hair and kind, blue eyes.

"Father Palmer," Nathan greeted, shaking his hand. "We kindly thank you for coming on such short notice."

"Oh, it was no trouble. This...this is what I do. I help cast out the evil, but please, we needn't be so formal. Call me Father Steve."

"Very well," Nathan replied, motioning to Kristin and Joshua. "This is Dr. Kristin Westphalen and Dr. Joshua Levin."

He nodded his greeting to each of them. "And where are the others?"

"Currently gathered on sea deck. Apparently, it's stopped its antics for the time being, and we thought that everyone would be safer in numbers."

"That's smart thinking, but may we go there? Though Augustus has explained some things to me, I'd like to find out a bit more before begin."

Nathan hesitated. "We actually haven't told the entire crew what's been going on. We didn't want to scare them."

"I can't say I don't understand your reasoning, but they need to know now. It's the only way to protect them."

"Follow me," Nathan told him.

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Though the crew had obediently brought pillows, blankets, and the like, no one actually slept. They sat on the floor, huddled together in some sort of quiet meditation. It took Kristin several moments before she realized Tim had been leading them all in a prayer.

As they all said, "Amen," Nathan walked to the front of the room. "I hate to interrupt, but I'd like to explain a few things. First, we have a bit of a situation here."

Tim stood and approached his side. "I've actually taken care of that. After Katie's little incident...there were just too many questions."

"Very well," Nathan replied, giving him a nod. "Thank you, Mr. O'Neill."

Tim gave him a smile before returning to his seat.

"I do apologize for not being forthcoming from the very beginning, but we didn't realize it was going to be such a problem right away. However, we have someone here who'll help us. Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to to introduce Father Stephen Palmer."

Father Steve waved and moved to stand next to Nathan. "Please, call me Father Steve." He paused for a moment. "I promise I will do everything in my power to rid you of this thing. Please know that I've worked in a number of cases involving demon and spirit possession."

"You're going to do an exorcism?" someone asked.

He smiled softly, giving a shake of his head. "Exorcisms need approval from the Vatican, and it's a rather arduous process. Though I have participated in a few exorcisms, this won't be one. This will be a blessing, however. And while I've never dealt with Mazzaroth directly, I know a thing or two about the demon world. Number one, they are always looking for innocent human souls. Number two, whatever this thing is, it has never walked the earth in human form, no matter what it says. And number three, any form of prayer or religious symbol..." He pulled out a crucifix from his pocket. "...will anger it."

The light above him immediately flickered and broke, causing a few people to cry out.

He put the crucifix away for the time being. "I am sorry if I've frightened you, but I've brought a container full of them. I'm going to ask that they be placed everywhere, every room on this boat." He paused. "Has the creature revealed itself to anyone?"

Katie slowly raised her hand. "It spoke to me."

"And what did it say?"

"That it wanted my family dead," she said quietly, her voice trembling.

"So it's taken a particular interest in you?"

Her brow furrowed in question. "What?"

"Usually, the demon will take a certain interest in particular people. It will isolate and abuse one particular person from a group in hopes of possession." He looked around the room. "Has anyone felt tormented more than anyone else? Have you noticed voices telling you to do things you wouldn't normally do? Whispering? Are you seeing things? Have you noticed any strange markings or injuries on your body? Things like that?"

"We keep smelling rotten meat or eggs," someone else commented.

He nodded. "That's common in cases like this, but I wouldn't say that's singling anyone out. I assume you've all smelled this?"

Everyone nodded quietly.

For several moments, the room was silent until Kristin took a step forward. "I...I've seen shadows."

"Shadows?"

She nodded. "And I felt... It felt like something was breathing on the back of my neck. I...I haven't noticed any injuries, I don't think, but... Do you think it's targeting me?" She felt her bones ice over at the thought.

"Anything is possible, but if no one else experienced such things, then it might be. There's always one, and there must be something about you that makes you more appealing than anyone else."

"The doc was possessed last year," Lucas chimed in.

Kristin shot him a glare as Father said, "Oh?"

She shook her head. "It...it wasn't like that exactly. You see..."

"We stumbled upon a shipwreck," Nathan for her, "of a boat that was over a hundred years old. We decided to investigate and whether we'd experienced nitrogen narcosis or an actual ghost, we can't be sure. But if the latter is indeed the case, a spirit of a woman named Lillian used Kristin's body for a short while. She...she wasn't malicious or anything, though."

"I see," Father Steve replied, looking back towards Kristin. "Don't worry; we won't let it get inside of you. Though you've mistakenly been thrown into the war against evil, we won't let it win."

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The blessing was a rather long process. It involved going into every room on the boat, dousing the area with holy water, hanging a crucifix above the door, and saying several prayers. Indeed, this angered the demon; they heard strange growls, anguished, disembodied screams, and caused lights to flicker. Each time Father Steve would cry, "Mazzaroth, in the name of God, I condemn you back to Hell!", crucifixes would fly across the room. At one point, it seemed as though blood was dripping out of the walls as well. This lasted through the rest of the night and into the morning

Sometime around 0900 hours, however, everything seemed to quiet all at once.

"What does that mean?" Nathan asked.

"I do believe that means it's over," Father Steve replied. "Though they don't go down without a fight, they cease all activity once they've been banished back to where they belong."

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Although she'd initially been wary of it all, unsure if they were now demon-free, by evening, Kristin believed it. The chest had been locked back in the brig until they could bury it properly, and Father Stephen went back home. Though it had been ordered that everyone take it easy, she'd actually went back to her urchin experiment, with Lucas helping her.

She was humming softly when she thought she heard footsteps. She glanced up to see Nathan standing in the doorway. "How are things?" he asked.

"Quiet and danger-free, it seems." She nodded her head towards Lucas. "We've just been doing some last minute things for this experiment. I need to have it finished by next week for funding purposes." She paused. "Please tell me things are all right everywhere else."

He smiled. "Everything's fine. There's nothing to worry about anymore."

"Thank goodness!"

"No kidding," Lucas said. "This is beginning to become a habit. Is it a law that we have to find ghosts every Halloween?"

"Not ghosts," she corrected.

Lucas patted her shoulder. "Whatever you say, Doc."

"Don't worry; next year, I'm making sure we all have shore leave. Leave the ghost hunting to someone else," Nathan replied.

"That sounds wonderful."

Just then, Nathan's PAL unit beeped. "Bridger."

"Captain," Lieutenant O'Neill's voice said. "Lawrence Wolenczak on the line for Lucas."

"He can take it in my office," Kristin said.

Kristin nodded. "Thank you, Mr. O'Neill. Send it to Dr. Westphalen's office."

"Aye, sir."

Lucas grinned as he walked towards Kristin's office. "Are you sure this isn't Christmas?"

"Maybe it is," Nathan said. "Enjoy it."

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Lucas shut the office door behind him and hit the view button.

"Hello, Lucas," Lawrence greeted him.

"Dad! Why are you calling so soon? We just spoke two weeks ago." His brow creased in worry. "Is everything okay?"

Lawrence held up his hands. "Everything's fine," he assured him. "I just decided I had a bit of time and thought what better way than to spend it with you. I am allowed to do that, aren't I?"

"Of course. I mean, I'm glad you called. You know I always like it when we talk."

_Kill, kill, kill._

"What?" Lucas asked. "What did you say, Dad?"

"I didn't say anything. Don't tell me you're already having nightmares about tomorrow. I thought you grew out of that."

Lucas felt his cheeks go warm. "I did a long time ago. Sorry, I guess I was just hearing things." He glanced towards the corner of the room and thought he saw a dark shadow. He shut his eyes tightly, and when he opened them again, it had disappeared.

"So what are the plans for tomorrow? Is there a party?"

Lucas turned his attention back to the screen. "Yep, we're going to party like it's 1999. Or 2019," he said with a grin. "I've got an awesome costume. I couldn't decide between Michael Meyers or Jason Voorhees, but I chose Jason. What do you think?"

"Very spooky," his father replied. "And at least you'll be having more fun than I get to have. I'll be in boring meetings all day."

"Lucky you," Lucas commented when he heard strange whispering again. He shook his head, trying to ignore it. "Uh, Dad, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, anything. Something wrong?"

"No, I was just wondering...was I ever baptized?"

Lawrence's mouth fell open slightly. "You know your mother and I weren't particularly religious. We wanted you to be able to make your own decisions about your faith when you were ready. Why are you asking?"

He watched as the dark shadow came closer to him. "It's just that Tim...you know he's a really devout Catholic...had asked. I told him I thought I was, but I wanted to check."

"I see. Well, if you'd like to take that step, you're certainly old enough now."

He nodded. "Yeah, I know, but...I think I like it better this way. It's perfect the way it is."

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"How is everything?" Nathan asked as he walked out of the office.

"Perfect," Lucas replied. "Dad...he just wanted to say hi. Said he wants to make more of a point to do that."

"That's wonderful, Lucas; I'm so happy for you," Kristin said.

He nodded. "Thanks." After a long pause, he said, "Doc, is it all right if I turn in for the night? I...I want to make sure I have everything ready for tomorrow."

She smiled. "Of course, dear. I wasn't going to work much longer myself. See you at the party."

"Sure thing; it'll be to _die_ for."

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"I must say, you do look smashing in your suit and top hat," Kristin said to Nathan when he came to her door to accompany her to sea deck.

"Thank you, but it cannot compare to your beauty, my dear." He made a dramatic bow and kissed her white-gloved hand.

She laughed softly. "You certainly do know how to charm a girl."

"I do try." He held out his arm. "And shall we go see the rest of witches and ghouls in Halloween fun?"

She accepted his arm. "We shall."

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Sea deck had been transformed. On top of the other decorations that Ben and Lucas already put up, they'd added even more to make it look like a haunted house with fake headstones, some dry ice, and some spooky music for effect.

"Velcome to my castle," Ben said in an exaggerated Transylvanian accent, dressed as Dracula.

Kristin laughed. "Wonderful costume, Mr. Krieg."

"The name is Drac-u-la," he corrected. "And this is my lovely bride." He held out his arm and Katie appeared in a black dress with painted teeth marks on her throat.

"You guys look great," she told them.

"Thank you; so do you," Kristin replied. She glanced around the room, which was filled with most of the crew. "Where's Lucas?"

Katie pointed to the table in the back of the room. "Handling the refreshments. You have to see his costume. It looks fabulous."

Nathan took her hand and led her in that direction, where they saw Lucas dressed as Jason.

"That is a very realistic looking costume, Lucas," Kristin told him.

Lucas only nodded, since Jason never spoke, and handed each of them a cup of red liquid.

"Punch? Did you make it yourself?"

Again, he nodded and moved to arrange a tray of cookies.

"I have to say, it looks a little funny to see Jason Voorhees arranging baked goods," Nathan muttered, causing Kristin to laugh.

"Indeed," she agreed.

Nathan held up his glass. "Cheers."

She tapped her glass against his and took a sip. "Mmm." She looked over her shoulder to Lucas. "This is quite good."

Lucas gave her the thumbs-up and went back to his baked goods.

Nathan and Kristin finished their punch and moved to the dance floor.

While they were dancing, however, Kristin couldn't help but feel the room was spinning...more than it should spinning around the dance floor...and her stomach felt uneasy. She finally leaned towards Nathan. "I...I think I need a break. I'm not feeling very well."

"Neither am I, admittedly." He placed a hand on her shoulder and led her back to the refreshment table. "Maybe some more punch would help?"

"Maybe," she replied, but as she was ladling some into a new glass, she noticed something strange. The light showed a green hue on the punch's surface. She shook her head, thinking she was just imagining things when Nathan fell to the floor. She turned to help him when she noticed people all around the room doing the same thing. She struggled to keep her eyes opened when all went dark.

_-sQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQsQ-_

When Kristin awoke, it took her a moment to register where she was. She was still lying on the sea deck floor, but the entire room had been cleared out, it seemed. The decorations still hung, but the music had stopped. She tried to push herself up when she realized she couldn't. She looked down and realized her arms and legs were tied to someone else; a few others actually. She noticed Katie and Tim lie directly across from her, still unconscious. "What...what's going on?" unsure of who she was asking.

"Kristin?" Nathan said. Lying at her feet, he glanced up towards her.

"What...what's going on? Who did this? Why are we tied up?"

"I don't know; I only woke up a few minutes ago myself."

"Where's everyone else?" Ben's voice came directly from above Kristin.

"I don't know," Nathan replied. "We don't-"

Katie came to and instantly panicked. "I...I can't move," she cried. "Why can't I move?"

"Shh," Tim told them. "I think we should try to keep calm."

"Keep calm?" Katie said. "We've been knocked unconscious and woke up tied to one another, and we should keep calm?"

At that moment, they heard approaching footfalls. Kristin looked up to see a nude man wearing a cat mask with black wings attached to it. He was holding a large, sharp knife in his hand.

Katie started crying softly. "No, please, don't do this."

"L-Lucas?" Nathan said. "You did this?"

He shook his head. "The name is Mazzaroth," he replied, his voice low and gravelly. "And you are my family."

"Lucas, you don't want to do this," Ben told him.

He pointed the knife towards him. "You'll be my first." He moved to the center of the circle and began chanting in a language none of them recognized.

"Nathan?" Kristin said weakly, feeling tears welling up in her eyes.

"I'm here, Kris. I just...I don't know what to do."

"We should pray," Tim told them. "Come on; pray with me. Our Father..."

"Who art in Heaven," they said in unison. "Hallowed by thy name."

Kristin shuddered slightly when she heard Ben gurgling, no longer praying. "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done."

Next, Katie stopped praying. Kristin shut her eyes tightly, feeling tears roll down her cheeks. "On Earth as it is in Heaven."

Then it was Tim's turn. She heard him choking on his own blood, but did her best to keep praying. "Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us."

"Lucas, no!" she heard Nathan cry before his words were cut off by what she could only assume as the knife blade. She was too frightened to look.

"And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil." At that moment, she opened her eyes, and saw the knife just centimeters away from her neck. "Lucas, you don't have to do this. You...you can fight this."

"Lucas is already gone," he replied in that dark voice. "But don't worry; you'll see him very soon."

"Amen..." she said softly...just before the knife cut into her throat.


	12. GeorgyannWayson

**Chef Oogie Boogie**

**Author:** GeorgyannWayson

**Fandom:** The Nightmare before Christmas

**Claim:** Mr. Oogie Boogie

* * *

><p><em>There is a tale, a legend if you will<em>

_Of a Halloween Town favorite _

_That caused quite the thrill_

_Now, what could that be, you ask?_

_Surely, it must've gone boo_

_But you would be wrong, dear reader_

_Allow me to indulge you_

_With a story about something called Snake and Spider Stew…_

* * *

><p>There was a time in Halloween Town where Oogie Boogie wasn't the town outcast, nor was he the villain. After the failure of trying to establish his own holiday called Bug Day, he moved to Halloween Town and lived among the residents, partaking in the celebrations of Halloween each year with gusto. After all, it was the one holiday where he could give an excuse of overenthusiasm for maybe taking things a little too far. To Oogie, Halloween was more than a festival, more than a parade and dancing skeletons. It was his identity; after all, he was the Boogeyman! Who could compete with the terror, the nightmares, and the chills that he inspired in his victims? No one, he would say if you had asked him!<p>

And so year after year, Oogie took the top spot in the Scare-Off in town, giving more children nightmares than most of the residents combined. Soon, however, it wasn't enough to just scare the kids; oh no not at all! Oogie wanted more attention and praise for his efforts and his genius schemes. Awards, speeches and trophies paled in comparison to what he believed was the ultimate goal: to become a Halloween Town legend.

After long nights of thinking about how best he could be remembered and go down in the history books, it finally hit him. There was a stew that his momma used to make when he was just a little burlap sack. It was a winner of a dish on its own, but it needed…something different. Something with more punch, more shock. However, Oogie hadn't a clue what that ingredient could've been and so, he was at a loss for what to do.

However, the thought stayed in the back of his mind as he went on and continued to get his thrills from scaring kids and the occasional adult, too. Each scream that he garnered was like a thrill of adrenaline that went like a current through his system, drugging him to the point of an incredible high that was difficult to come down from-

And that, he realized one chilly evening after returning from the evening's scares, was what he was missing. _And why just go for the feeling when you can actually…use the source itself?_ And so, in the dead of night over countless weeks, he experimented with batch after batch of stew, testing so many flavor combinations that it was almost too much, but success came at last and it. Was. _Perfect. _

_This,_ he thought to himself with glee, _is it!_

* * *

><p>The Mayor was the first resident that Oogie tested the stew on at lunchtime the next day. The look on his face when he took that first bite made Oogie's confidence soar.<p>

"This," the Mayor proclaimed as he grabbed his bullhorn and walked outside to the stoop of Town Hall, "is the best stew that I ever tasted!" He put the bullhorn to his lips. "Everyone!" he shouted, his voice slightly cracking. "If you're looking for a treat from our very own town, you're in luck today: Oogie's Snake and Spider Stew is exactly what you're looking for!"

From then on, Oogie's Snake and Spider Stew was a hit throughout Halloween Town! The local tavern, Spook's, was adamant about adding it to their menu after the Mayor's announcement and soon, there wasn't a creature in town that didn't know about it and praise it whenever they saw Oogie on the streets! Finally – recognition, fame, a legacy. It was all his and he made sure to make the most of the attention, almost as if he was a spooky star.

"How do you make it, Oogie?" one of the witch sisters, Helgamine, asked in a high-pitched voice one night in the tavern as he popped in for a quick visit. That question made the others around her quickly quiet down from their different conversations.

"Yes, do tell us," Zeldaborne, the other witch piped in with a cackle. "We're oh so curious to know!"

"Well," Oogie started with a chuckle, trying his hardest to hide a wicked grin. "I use a secret ingredient that involves more than just snake and spider."

The tavern rose up in a roar as different creatures tried their hand at guessing the ellusive secret ingredient. After each guess ended in failure, Oogie let out a roar of triumphant laughter.

"You're all just too much!" he cried out as he held his belly. He took a stroll around the dining area. "Now, you all should know that when Oogie cooks, he does it big, oh yes I do!"

"Well, then tell us, Oogie, if you're so proud of it all," one of the Vampire brothers said levelly. "What is the ingredient that makes this stew so delicious, it's positively frightening?"

With a look around to the eager faces, Oogie took a moment to relish in the mood of suspense before letting loose the answer.

And the response was a far cry from what he thought it was going to be.

The tavern went completely silent as the shock and horror of what came out of his mouth sank in. Maybe…maybe it wasn't the best thing to actually say what it was. But before Oogie could even think twice about trying to turn it all into a joke, he was being chased by a mob toward the outskirts of town, the gate shutting with a harsh slam as the creature's cries rang out in the air:

Sick!

Twisted!

_Murderer._

The last one made the bugs in his belly boil with rage. Well, if the creatures of Halloween Town couldn't understand his motivations and reasoning behind his actions, then maybe they didn't deserve him as a part of their town. Looking out toward Curly Hill in the moonlight, a very brief pang of something foreign –sadness? Guilt? Who knew?- went through him.

With a vow never to forget his sudden and cold exile, Oogie began the journey to what is today his Lair and thus, he lives and continues to make his Snake and Spider Stew. So, what was that oh so secret ingredient you may ask that had earned him such a sudden and harsh punishment? Well, if you ask the Halloween Town residents, they will tell you that the big reveal was a bluff just to get a reaction from everyone. But if you ask the Boogeyman himself, he'll make no apologies nor feel an ounce of guilt about his actions.

"After all," he would say with a cackle, "the taste of human flesh is the best flavor of them all."


	13. SpaceCaptain Zangano

**Killer Moth's Halloween**

**Author:** SpaceCaptain Zangano

**Fandom:** Teen Titans

**Claim:** Killer Moth

* * *

><p>Killer Moth was in the Mothcave Lab, preparing for another round of nefarious lepidopteran experiments when he heard the screeching. It was a shrill, high-pitched scream, one that meant all was not well in his domestic life.<p>

A few seconds later, a young girl ran sobbing into the Mothcave, and attached herself to Killer Moth's leg.

Killer Moth sighed, closed the Moth-enclosure and took off his gloves. Experimental Larvae numbers 12 through 15 would be left alone to pupate in peace.

"Now, now, Kitten, What's wrong?" he asked as he awkwardly patted his daughter's back.

"Daddy," the young girl sobbed, "Ms. Aranae called in sick today and now my class can't go on a Halloween field trip!" She looked at him with wide pleading eyes. "Unless another parent takes the children."

Killer Moth would do anything for his daughter (and she seemed to know it). But there were still some things that were hard to overlook. Like the fact that he was a giant moth with fuzzy antennae and a six and a half foot wing-span. Killer Moth stood up and opened his giant wings. "But Kitten, don't you think the other children will be frightened?"

"Of course not daddy, it's Halloween." Her tears instantly evaporated as she gave him a giant hug. "It'll be perfect."

* * *

><p>They arrived early the next morning at E. Nygma Fruit Farm. There Killer Moth was given a clipboard of instructions, a backpack of supplies, and seven of Kitten's classmates who were now his responsibility.<p>

The first event was the creepy petting zoo. Surely the children couldn't get into much trouble with tarantulas. Plus it was an excellent opportunity for impressionable young minds to learn to appreciate spiders and insects. And the cockroach races sounded cool.

Kitten and Stacy lined up to feed the fruit bat, while Johnny, Bobby and Fang tried to break a tarantula tank, much to the dismay of the Fruit Farm staff.

Jenny ran over to the cockroach racing enclosure, while Killer Moth relaxed and examined E. Nygma's moth specimens. There were a few beautiful Saturniids, but clearly the man was not anywhere near Killer Moth's league. Still, it was good to check out the competition every once in a while.

The day seemed to be off to a good start until Killer Moth heard struggling and screaming. "Mr. Moth, Mr. Moth," shouted Sara. "Johnny made Fang eat a spider."

Killer Moth sighed and decided maybe the creepy petting zoo wasn't the best place for these hellions. "Okay children," he began as he checked the event schedule. "I guess it's time for creepy snacks next." Even though they'd already gotten a head start on the snacks at the petting zoo.

Jenny was disappointed that she couldn't continue to win bets at cockroach racing. Killer Moth frowned and wondered what kids were learning at school events these days.

* * *

><p>After an afternoon of traumatizing the staff with food fights and pumpkin rolls (and not the pastry), it was time for the haunted hayride. Killer Moth settled onto one of the bales of hay and wondered if he'd finally be able to relax. How much trouble could children get into on a hayride anyway?<p>

Five seconds later the silence was broken. "I want a story, Mr. Moth" whined Jenny. "Make it a scary one too."

"Tell us about the Mothman. My cousin said he saw the Mothman once." The other children stopped to stare at Johnny. "He said it had red glowing eyes and flew through the air. And you could hear the screeching for miles."

"I'm sure it was just an owl on the road."

The children all gave him dirty looks.

"Maybe Mr. Moth is related to the Mothman, and that's why he's not saying anything," Jenny suggested.

"Silly, he's not the Mothman, he's my dad." Kitten gave Jenny a dirty look. "But if you all aren't nice to me he might just-"

"Now, now Kitten, it's not nice to threaten your friends."

"So he _is _the Mothman." Bobby looked vindicated.

Jenny whispered something to Johnny about getting a wing scale as proof.

"No-one's the Mothman," Killer Moth said grumpily an instant before a Batgloved fist hit the side of his face and he fell off the hayride.

"Killer Moth!" roared Batman. "How dare you kidnap these innocent children!"

"Oooo, it's Batman! Are they going to fight?"

"Mr. Moth, Mr. Moth," interrupted Sara. "You have to make sure Johnny takes his medicine or else he'll get hyperactive."

"Too late for that," Killer Moth muttered under his breath.

"Are you kids okay?" Batman asked gruffly.

"Of course not, this is boring!" whined Jenny. "Make him tell us about the Mothman, Batman."

"Silly, Batman doesn't care about your dumb story. I wanna see a fight."

"I, uh, there might have been a slight miscommunication somewhere." Batman pulled out his bat-communicator. "Everything checks out for now."

"Boo! Adults are boring!" Bobby shouted. "Where's Robin?"

"He's grounded because he kept everyone in the Batcave up all night with his werewolf movies."

The kids grumbled about Batman not being any fun.

Batman turned to leave dramatically, but before he did, he paused to give advice to Gotham's future juvenile delinquents. "Make sure you behave, kids. And don't eat too much candy on Halloween."

"Did he say candy? When do we get candy?" the children chorused.

As Killer Moth watched Batman fly off into the sunset, he vowed that one day the superhero would pay. One day he'd ambush the Bat when he least expected it and have him eaten alive by moths while annoying children asked him questions beginning with "why", and then he'd let obnoxious children play with the Batmobile. But first, Killer Moth was relocating to Jump City.


	14. EHWIES

**Capp & Capp LLP  
><strong>**or How Fast Scribonia Wove**

**Author:** Luna Rapunzel

**Fandom:** The Sims

**Claim:** Bianca Monty

* * *

><p>It's a patchwork fix, and we all know the way those leave holes.<p>

If you could make it all wrong to spare a little feud and save a little life, wouldn't you?

Scribonia Capp takes the baby, Contessa, and runs thread-tracks all the way out of Monte Vista and around the bend.

* * *

><p>The Exceptional Edifice hasn't been exceptional in a while, unless you mean in the sense that none of the <em>other<em> houses in Monte Vista are collapsing at the seams except the one here at 20 Via Veronaville, burnt orange buckling and ivy snatching up the walls as its own—so Bianca Monty isn't sure why, or how, or whatever, she ends up bug-eyed in front of it with her jack-o'-lantern bucket clutched at her ribcage on Spooky Day.

"Come _on_, Ani, seriously, let's get _out_ of here, you said we could go to the GilsCarbos' next and I want to see how big Mrs. GilsCarbo's chocolate pumpkins are this year. It's _creepy_ here."

"But it isn't supposed to be creepy," Bianca tells her little brother, rooted. "It's supposed to get torn down. They were going to build over the town with Tudor houses. There was supposed to be a fight, I think—it was a great big one."

Bianca's not sure where the words are coming from. Through the holes, maybe, because Scribonia, she leaves _holes_, and is it really so surprising that the molten mud's trying to right the town by curdling over?

* * *

><p>She says things like that sometimes, Bianca does. She can't figure out why. They just spill out. Her mom and dad take her to see the Sim Shrink at school and everything, but she's not doing it on purpose, she <em>swears<em>, and Bianca bets it scares her more than all three of them combined.

Like when her mom is pregnant with her youngest sibling, when she tells Bianca and Antonio that she and Dad are having a boy, when she tells them that they're naming him Claudio. "He's going to get really big and really old, but he isn't supposed to," Bianca says. "There's supposed to be a bad thing that happens to us."

She doesn't think her mom and dad are very happy, and the funny thing is she doesn't think they should be, either. It's just that they ought to be a little happier because at least they share the restaurant after Dad quits at the firm, but there's no restaurant, and there's no firm, and Dad is a doctor and Mom is a writer and they don't even get to have that one thing. Not even one little thing—and they're supposed to know _why_ Dad thinks Mom's second-best, and they don't—not now Scribonia's threaded his first-best away.

* * *

><p>Bianca gets a funny feeling in her belly when she hears that Capp &amp; Capp LLP are looking to expand their prospects into Monte Vista, to give the city planners some of their designs. She hears they're for skyscrapers, but that's not right, either, just like it's <em>all wrong<em> the way Kent Capp and Antonio become best friends, or Cordelia Capp and Claudio fall in love.

(there ought to be a Romeo—why isn't there going to be a Juliette—?)

She's got this gut feeling she should want to have a family, a big one, but she never has, not knowing what she's known about the way families curdle.

* * *

><p>"God, I <em>hate<em> graveyards."

"Oh, Cordelia, you're made of tougher stuff than that, aren't you? I _know_ you," says Caliban Gale, and Cordelia wishes he didn't, because there's Claudio and the wedding and everything Grandmother taught her about devotion and peace and loyalty—but he does. Of course he does.

"Just let's not go in the mausoleum, okay, because Mum doesn't believe her but Regan _swears_ she got mauled by a bear when she and Kent went exploring in the catacombs, and don't give me that about how it's Spooky Day because I don't _care_ if it's…"

It's partly cloudy out, and hazy, like the purple in the sky is something she could scoop right up out of the fog at eye level, at her feet. Cordelia's shoes aren't built for ground off the path, and her heels are damp and sunken inches into the sod, and Cordelia isn't built to _handle_ life off the path like when Caliban is _looking_ at her like that, if only he'd just stop looking at her like that, then she'd have been able to take a big gulp of air when she ran out from all her raving (Cordelia is words and excuses) instead of just stand there like a breathless idiot because that's all she is, isn't she, all pampered and prepped to sit on Daddy's board of directors but not say a word, Claudio loved her before she said a _word_ and then there's Caliban, listening, why does it have to be _he_ who listens, oh why?

"No mausoleum. I promise," says Caliban, and she believes him.

But it doesn't change the way she hates graveyards—the sog and the greys and the feeling she can't shake like there are murmurs just behind her, and then she'll turn to face nothing but her own bug-eyes staring back, like she's seven again with that jack-o'-lantern bucket asking Mum why she's got this _feeling_ like somewhere out there they've got enemies hidden away and waiting with whites in their eyes. Cordelia used to wonder whether there was anybody out there who'd ever felt that feeling, who'd tell the Sim Shrink to suck it and stay with her and marvel at the way sometimes you can _know_ when things are wrong, you just _know_ them, but she gave up on that a long, long time ago.

"Delia, come look at this."

She comes. _Octavius Capp_, reads the gravestone.

"Didn't you say your pa was named Octavius?"

"I… Grandmother would never say much about him, not even to Mum, but I think… he was. I think he was."

(And to remember, Scribonia fights _so_ hard, bug-eyed.)

He massages her shoulders when he notices how tense they've gone, turns her around and the course of things with her. Bianca Monty sleeps a little easier that night. The Simverse does have that nasty little tendency of unraveling to reveal its uglies when somebody tries to patch them over.


	15. IronManRidingaNimbus

**Author:** IronManRidingaNimbus

**Fandom:** Harry Potter

**Claim:** Ginny Weasley

* * *

><p><em>Ginny Weasley was walking down a dark, narrow path. Midnight had just passed. Rain was gently falling on the rooftops of London, and a lone streetlight flickered in the distance. Ginny's fiery red hair was dripping wet, sending trickles of water down her spine. She knew she was being followed. The dark-robed figure had done a good job of concealing himself in the shadows, but Ginny knew he was there, she could sense it. She kept walking, not letting her follower know that she could feel him there. He was just metres away, keeping out of hearing range. She held her hand ready to draw out her wand at a moments notice. She kept it in a holster on the inside of her right arm. She could almost feel the 10 inches of elm tingle against her skin. <em>

_Ginny turned left, deeper into the seedy heart of the city. Her pursuer followed. He was quickening his pace. The hairs on the back of Ginny's neck stood up. It was nearly time. She could hear her pursuer getting closer. Her palms were sweating, her breath was uneasy. There was a small patch of moonlight a few metres ahead. Ginny made a dash for it, then, once she was in the patch of light, she snapped around and her wand shot into her grip. "Ginny Weasley, at last." Fear hit Ginny like an icy knife through the heart. She began backing up; her heart was in her throat. _

"_N-no," She stammered, "I-it can't be you. Harry killed you!" _

"_Yet here I am." A seventeen-year old Tom Riddle stepped into the light. His pale, handsome face accentuated by the dark robes he wore. His dark eyes seemed to stare straight into her soul. "Magic has the power to do many things, and I have pushed the boundaries of magic further than anyone before me." _

"_Why have you come here tonight Tom?" Ginny couldn't hide the fear in her voice. She tightened her grip on her wand. Tom noticed this, and gave her a dark, menacing laugh._

"_Like that will be sufficient." He snorted. "You think you can defeat me with that measly stick? I am the Master of the Elder Wand!" His dark cackle filled the air again. He had to be lying, Harry was the Master of the Elder Wand._

"_You still haven't answered my question." Ginny spoke with renewed hatred. _

"_I'm here for revenge." He spoke the words matter-of-factly. "You robbed me Ginny Weasley, in the Chamber of Secrets all those years ago. I could've returned to full power, a handsome young man, and the war would have been over before it truly begun. Now you shall pay the price." Ginny didn't wait to find out what 'the price' was, though she had a good idea. She let her spell fly first; a well-aimed _Stupefy _flew towards Tom's chest. Unfortunately he was just as quick, and simply swatted the bolt of red magic out of the air with a sharp flick of his wrist. He was carrying the Elder Wand. _

_Ginny fired again and again, shooting curse after curse, hex after hex at him. Nothing penetrated his defence. "At least you will die with some fight in you, I like that." Ginny wasn't going to back down and let herself be killed. She was going to send Tom back to hell. Then suddenly she was frozen in place, she felt her feet stop moving. A _Stickfast Hex_ Ginny concluded. Too late. In her moment of hesitation Tom neatly plucked her wand from her grasp. "I must say I'd hoped for better from you. A pity." _

"_Just what do you aim to achieve?" Ginny pleaded with him. _

"_Nothing Ginny. I'm simply here to amuse myself." _

"_You're a sick, sad, pathetic psychopath of a man!" Ginny spat. Tom laughed again. _

"_Mmm," He mused, "To each his own. Perhaps you can scream while I kill you? It would make the moment more enjoyable." _

"_I'll never give you the satisfaction." Ginny was still stuck to the spot, with tears in her eyes. "I'll die with dignity." _

"_Very well." Tom sighed, "_Avada Kedavra!" _Ginny held back a scream. _

**(/) **

Ginny shot upright just before the harsh green light of the Killing Curse engulfed her. She was panting, her chest glistening with sweat, her hair a knotted mess. Harry had jumped right out of their king-size bed, wand in hand. The lights had been turned on and Harry seemed to have ruled out anyone else being in the room. He sighed, and pulled Ginny into a warm embrace. She leaned her head into his chest; still shaky from the nightmare she had just woken up from. "You ok?" Harry asked, though he already knew the answer.

Ginny shook her head, "I'm fine. You know how Halloween is." Every year it was the same, some nightmarish reminder that Tom Riddle had taken control of her on Halloween all those years ago. This years dream was new, but the ending was still the same. The sinister smile, the laugh, the enormous bolt of green light as the Killing Curse filled her vision. It was horrible, and it was so vivid. It always _felt _real.

"You know its never actually going to happen Ginny. He's gone." Harry leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of her head. Ginny nodded; glad to have him with her. This was the third year the pair of them had lived together. The third year Harry had had to put up with her waking him up at three in the morning. But he always took care of her without complaint. She pulled him down onto the bed beside her, and returned to her spot on his chest.

"I know."


	16. Aiko Isari

**Sweets**

**Author:** Aiko Isari

**Fandom: **Senki Zesshou Symphogear

**Claim: **Amou Kanade

* * *

><p>One of the first things you learned working in Special Division Two was that it was a very bad idea to let Tsubasa handle weapons storage. If she didn't drop it, she spent time reenacting the many ways she skewered Noise, and that was rather... <em>unproductive<em> to getting any cleaning done.

The second thing was that Amou Kanade was not allowed to be bored, under any circumstances.

Unfortunately, everyone seemed to forget this second one, and they worked there!

They should not have been surprised to see their conference room covered in streamers and paper chains with food on rickety tables, but they were.

On one of the couches sat Kanade, looking too pleased with herself. Her red hair, normally so much like the wings of a bird, now looked like the messy mane of a horse held down by a party hat.

"You should never have given me a pass card for myself," she told the staff with a smug grin, spinning the silver card between two fingers before pocketing it. At everyone's boggled expressions, she shrugged. "What? It's Halloween soon in the West and it seemed fun!"

_It seemed fun, _was basically Kanade's excuse to do anything, be it fight, harass Tsubasa, spar with her commander, change the password to the doctor's computer, whatever came to mind. Tsubasa could normally attempt to stop her... it did not always work.

Genjurou let out a roar of a laugh, recovering fast as per usual. "How exciting! It's been a while since we've had a party!"

"It's been a month," one of the junior officers couldn't help but mutter. He went ignored as the other officers went to examine the food.

"Two," said another, elbowing the first in the ribs. "Enjoy yourself, will you?"

Kanade grinned at this. "Tsubasa, you've been infecting everyone with your stiffness again!"

Tsubasa's face colored, a terrible clash of pink against blue. She squeaked as Kanade tugged her toward the table and almost pouted. She had to try her best _not _to pout (which Kanade tended to cause her to do anyway) and dig her heels in, but it didn't work.

"Come on, Tsubasa, cookies! With frosting..."

Tsubasa tried not to huff. "We should be training..."

Kanade humphed. "We did training yesterday, and two days before, and did our homework, and had rehearsal! We have done nothing _fun_! Remember _fun?"_

Tsubasa stuttered something that Kanade interpreted without a second glance and cheerfully drags Tsubasa to a soft chair and goes to get her food anyway.

Cheeks flushed, eyes stuck staring at her school skirt, she doesn't know what to say or how to say it. Kanade simply does things and it is as envy-worthy as the way she smiles and-

And then Tsubasa yelped because Kanade had stolen an ice cube from her cup and slid it down the back of her shirt. Tsubasa squeaked and jumped up to get it out and away and there were chuckles of laughter from various sides of the room until her uncle takes pity on her and gets the rest of it free. Kanade was giggling like a small child and Tsubasa wished she had the ability to swell up in rage and make her feel bad but all she can do is pick up a piece of cake and shove it in her partner's face.

For a moment the room was silent.

Then Kanade threw a cupcake and the war exploded.

They knew the room will be a mess by the end but no one cared, Kanade least of all. She wanted this to happen. Everyone in this room (well, except the old man but he had his moments too!) didn't know how to unwind! It was worth sneaking around for two weeks to get this done! She crushed her party hat, stuffed a pastry in it, and threw.

Ryoko's delighted shriek told her where it landed. "Was that my party favor, Kanade-chan?"

"Payback for last month," she shot back, taking a pillow and tackling Tsubasa with it, knocking them both to roll on the ground, smearing frosting in hair and decorating each other in crumbs. They wrestled and tossed remnants of food until the whole room was watching them collapse into a heap of giggles. Kanade's expression was pure triumph, while Tsubasa's chest heaved, trying to remember what breathing was like.

"I win," Kanade informed her with a laugh.

Tsubasa flicked her nose. "You got lucky."

"And you two got covered in frosting," Ryoko chirped, licking her lips.

Kanade rolled her eyes as Tsubasa flushed. "So did everything else."

"Yes, and now we have to clean it up."

Kanade shrugged. "It was fun." She leaned and wiped cream off of Tsubasa's cheek with a finger. Tsubasa turned red and Kanade shrugged, getting up from the floor.

"To the mops!" she shouted, with the same self-assured cheer that started the whole thing. Tsubasa tried to look stern, or even exasperated. Instead, she trotted after her like a shy puppy.

"Youth," Ryoko informed the room at large. All of the adults cracked a smile.

After it was over, with Kanade sleeping with her head in Tsubasa's lap, and multiple cups of tea, Ryoko corrected herself.

"Young love then."

Tsubasa's face was red, but Kanade slept through it all, worn out, but pleased with herself.


	17. NeoMiniTails

**Dead**

**Author: **NeoMiniTails

**Fandom:** Sailor Moon

**Claim:** Michiru Kaioh

* * *

><p>The sea clashed against the Earth. She couldn't see it nor hear it, but the quivering of her lips and the tension in her shoulders proved it to be true. Michiru could feel its anger, its turmoil, all of its emptiness fueling each wave striking Gotham Harbor. She could sense the world was changing, waiting to be taken to its executioner. It almost seemed so long ago when she would've fought to quiet the Earth's screaming tendency to warn her of the oncoming world's danger.<p>

That day was different. The sea was pleading with her, clutching at her shadow, knowing the woman she once was and asking for her to come back. The guardian, the soldier, _the Mother. _Michiru gently placed her hands on the warehouse and sighed. Looking to the right, she could've sworn she could see Hotaru reaching out for her, her eyes begging for her to turn back.

_I'm doing this for you, Hotaru-chan, _she thought longingly. Staring at what she knew could only be a figment of her imagination, her eyes softened. _My little girl... _

It'd been so long since she last held her daughter in her arms. She often repeated Hotaru's final message to her phone, trying to keep the sweet child's gentle, calming voice tattooed in her heart forever. She could see the shadow of Hotaru's memory lips move.

There was no sound, but the green-haired woman had no doubt what she was saying. _Michiru-mama, promise me that you'll never leave me. _It was always the same thing, the same message repeated in her dreams, the same broken broken promise, the same question.

Her words repeated over and over. Always there. Michiru could remember holding her daughter in her arms, smiling - her entire body warm and for the first time, the world felt right. _"'Mamas' never leave their baby fireflies, you know that."_

She could remember her little girl wrapping her tiny body around her arm. The small child was sweating bullets and quivering as she cried into her chest. _Hotaru-chan..._

_Why did my Papa hate me so much? What did I do wrong?_

Michiru shook her head. This was no time for that. She was a sailor guardian on a mission. _No need for distractions. _Reaching out for her mirror, the violinist could hear the sounds of shuffling in the background and could feel the waves becoming even more sporadic than before.

Facing the moon, she placed the mirror directly under it's lunar light and smirked slightly. _Papa came underprepared... only eighteen men with ten armed. Six have kryptonite and only two are armored. _

_Pop, pop, pop! _The sound of gunshots roared down towards her. Michiru stood still and watched the mirror, her eyes never once leaving the mirror of truth. Bored, she looked around and waited to see the big one do as the mirror showed. He'd be the first to jump down and try to take her down.

Just as the image in the mirror showed, a large, muscular man standing at nearly eight feet tall, jumped down but before he could touch the ground, Michiru ran forward. Almost instantly, she appeared behind him, jumping onto his shoulders and twisting his neck with one hand.

She then grabbed onto his chin then lodged her heel into his back, and digging her high heel into his back, felt the sensation of warm liquid squirt back at her and slide down his body. Smiling, she kissed the back of his neck before then moving her lips close to his earlobe and purring, "If I wasn't in a hurry, I'd have a little more fun with you and your friends." She dug her heel deeper, waited until she felt the bone before then flipping the body over and into the wall behind her.

_Pop! Pop! Pop!_

Shots blared through the air. Men hurled obscenities - words that Michiru was going to make sure would be their last. Glaring, she ran up the wall, the shots following behind her as she jumped to the left. With speed unmatched, she threw herself behind one of the gunmen, using his body as a shield, his blood splattering across her body.

Without much thought, she checked his pulse with her right hand and grabbed his knife with her other hand. _Alive, but not for long,_ she thought as she cut his throat then dropped him from the high platform.

"Bitch, stand down!"

"You ain' nothin'!"

"The Joker got major bank for a hit on you!"

Shots were fired again. Michiru could sense their body boiling, their blood pressure rising, sweat dripping. Bullets shot in every direction as she created a hyperspace shield around her body, a blue light surrounding her - she was tempted to have each bullet returned but decided against it. Her body stiffened as she felt the coldness of a small hand touching her arm.

_Mama, you're hurting. Please stop this. It won't stop the hurt... _Hotaru's voice? No, she's dead... gone like the soul Michiru rejected... even so, Michiru needed this. She needed to hurt them all; she needed to etch the look in their eyes in their final moments. Michiru needed to know what Hotaru must've looked like when her mother failed to keep her promise to never leave her, to never stop protecting her.

She needed to hurt herself, wanted to destroy every inch of her soul; Michiru deserved to go to hell. The Guardian was locked in purgatory on Earth, torturing herself for neither knowing good or bad anymore. There was no more hurt... she was just living with a memory of how she failed the ones she loved more than anything else.

_Mama, please stop! _

Her eyes widened as she ran full speed towards the gunmen, taking them all out within seconds, then taking out the armored men right behind them. The six kryptonite holders jumped down and one in particular seemed proud that she hadn't killed them with the other twelve.

"Joker was right about keeping this green stuff on us." The man was smirking, tossing his baggy up, his entire body loose like a weak stool.

Michiru jumped down and smiled. "Papa always had a strange sense of humor." She giggled as she pulled a pen out of her purse as she walked closer to them. Moving closer to them, she could see the mirror of truth in front of her. Standing above it, she looked down, expecting to see a woman covered in blood, a person with eyes of a murderer, but instead - she saw something unexpected.

For a moment, a sincere smile came across her face. In the mirror, she saw herself hugging Hotaru with Haruka holding her toys, a hand rested on Michiru's shoulder with Setsuna smiling sweetly at the family that the four of them made together. In the mirror, she was smiling, happy, a mother who would do anything to protect her child.

_Apparently, even the mirror can lie._

"Neptune Crystal Power, make up!"

_**[(Flashback: Sixteen Years Ago)]**_

"Papa, you lose." Michiru watched her father with undisguised tears. The game had gone for too long; she hadn't been strong enough to stop him before he went too far. Why didn't she see it before?

A smile spread across his cracked lips. Blood sheared down his lip and tore down his chest. "Ya think tha game is ova?"

"Papa," she whispered as she walked closer to him, staring at the mirror behind him and the toys that surrounded the room. "Please, make it stop." In the mirror, she could herself with bruises all over, one eye closed shut, lip swollen, her clothes ripped off of her after her father decided that she needed to learn 'respect.' He didn't mean it though... none of it.

"You did this to yaself!" he laughed. His eyes flicked with an excitement she didn't want to admit she'd seen. No, this wasn't her father. She was wrong about him - wrong to think he could kill an entire school of children. Michiru was wrong to think that her father was the man that the news nicknamed: "The Joker."

"Papa, I wanna go home..."

His eyes darkened. "I haven't finished here... ya know that!" Michiru knew what he was speaking of, but his obsession had taken over him. He needed help; she couldn't do this anymore. "That man, he stole you from me!"

"Papa, you're my father... no one can steal me away from you!" She screamed, watching his armed hand.

"The Batman, he refused to save my son... then, when I come home, he steals you away from me! He took your heart! He's playing me by using your heart!" He growled as he pulled the knife into the air, the light of the moon glaring it's light at the weapon. "Then, when I tried to get the chance to talk to him, he ignored me!"

"This isn't you..."

"He nearly let you die in that explosion.. he tried to make me lose two children that day.." Her father raged seemingly forgetting that he put the bomb in her private school, putting his own daughter in danger.

"This isn't you..." Michiru shook.

"I'm you.." Joker said, smirking. "You always said that." The psychotic glint in his eyes burning through the memory of Michiru. "Look out! This is who you'll be in the future!"

"We're not the same..."

At hearing her words, he stood up and ran forward, slashing through the air and attempting to cut her face. "You snotty little bitch! You're no better than me!" Michiru kept dodging but her father wouldn't let up.

"The police are on their way!" Michiru screamed, trying to get his attention while focusing on moving out the way of each attack. She needed to somehow save herself and him at the same time.

"Fine," the joker sighed with a laughed. "As a final round of cops and robbers, we'll play one more round..."

"No more!" Michiru hissed, glaring. "You lost! I told you that!" Her eyes widened as he took out a remote from his pocket.

"No hunty," he mocked, his eyes crudely staring at his daughter. "I win!" He raised the remote in the air and pressed the red button in the middle.

Michiru heard the sea screaming. She felt the ocean's waves pleading with her and more than that, she could hear the sounds of children and parents deathly hollers for mercy in her heart. For the first time in her life, she felt alive, knowing she had to protect them. A blue light shot out from her body and a pen appeared in the air. "Neptune Planet Power, Make Up!"

_**[(End Flashback)]**_

"It's jus' like the day you realized.."

Michiru scowled. It was her father's voice. "My father was a monster?"

Laughing, the Joker walked out from the shadows, walking over the dead bodies of his henchmen. "The day that you realized that Papa always has a backup plan."

Picking up her mirror artifact off the ground, Michiru aimed it at her father. The light reached him and rather than seeing an image of her father, the man who held her in his arms when she cried, the soldier who fought for his country despite being a wealthy man who needn't do such a thing, she saw an image of twelve year old self being held down on a bed. The image changed to her father laughing when she discovered her mother's dismembered head and how she screamed in fear.

She saw the man who claimed to love her but tried to destroy her dreams.

"You're just like my best friend..."

"The Batman?"

The Joker smiled as he walked closer to his daughter, his green hair matching her own and crude eye shape the same as his "little girl."

"How do you feel, little gul?"

Michiru kept the mirror facing her father, unable to shake away the images from her mind. She was gutted inside. Her father was living the life he wanted, being who he truly was, there was no struggle inside him about his actions. The smile on his lips were genuine and cruel, just as she remembered her last memory of him.

"Did you know today's Halloween, Michie?" He asked gingerly, a chuckle on his tongue, unescaping.

"The day of the dead, yes?" Michiru said nonchalantly, feeling tears bridge at her eyes.

"I wonder how many demons and spirits will fear what you've done..."

Michiru said nothing, but looked around, hoping to see Hotaru again. Nothing, just the scent of blood clouding the air. "You win, Papa."

"Looks like you're coming to your senses.."

"But you're wrong about one thing, Papa..."

"Oh?"

"I'm nothing like you..."

"You're every bit of me." He watched his daughter's tears stream down her cheeks. "The smile and all, the enjoyment of killing... you're every bit of me."

"I'm dead, Papa." Michiru bit her lip. "I don't know how to feel alive again."


	18. December Sapphire

**The Colour Black**

**Author:** December Sapphire

**Fandom:** Inuyasha

**Claim:** Rin

* * *

><p>There once was a little girl named Rin who loved flowers, and to run, and to play all sorts of games. But she also liked something very odd. Rin really liked things that went bump in the night. The bogyman never frightened her, ghost stories interest her, and the supernatural seemed to cause her to want more. She was obsessed, and only at ten years old.<p>

The little girl would sit herself in front of the sixty-inch television and while other little girls would watch cartoons, she would watch people hunt ghosts all day long. It was during this time when she saw a commercial for a new movie. This movie seemed to have ghosts in it and made Rin really curious.

"_From the creators of The Ring comes The Colour Black. In theatres this Friday," _the announcer in the TV said.

"Today is Friday," she thought. Her eyes lit up with wonder. "I want to see it."

But she has never seen a horror movie and does not know how scary they can be.

Her guardian, Lord Sesshomaru, told her strictly she wasn't allowed to see a horror movie until she reached the age of thirteen, and as long as the movie was rated appropriately, and if she had someone with her. But right now, all she wanted to do was see this movie. She didn't care if she was underage. There had to be some way to see it.

"Lord Sesshomaru!" Rin called to him, running down the hall towards his study. "Lord Sesshomaru!"

"Yes, Rin what is it?" he called from the inside.

She opened the door and ran to him. The demon was leaned back on his chair comfortably reading the newspaper. "Lord Sesshomaru! Lord Sesshomaru! There is a movie Rin wishes to see this Friday, can Rin go?"

He never looked up from his newspaper when he asked what movie, but upon hearing the answer, the rustling of the newspaper increase and it was placed down on his desk. "And what makes you think I would allow you to go see this horror movie, Rin? I have forbidden you to go see those ridiculous movies until you reach the proper age."

"But milord, this movie isn't scary at all. Please let me go!"

"No," he said, shortly, returning to his newspaper.

"But-"

"Rin, I've made my final answer."

And Rin left disappointed. But she had another way of going.

Now, if you were afraid of a dog demon becoming angry at you, you wouldn't have gone to the theatre and stayed home watching more children-friendly shows. But Rin wasn't afraid, and she would do anything to see this movie.

Rin, who had been looking for Jaken, Sesshomaru's servant, but you don't need to know any more about him since he isn't important except he's a green, stumpy toad demon, went to see if she could convince the toad to go with her. "If I have someone with me, it should be alright," she thought to herself.

Rin entered the large gardens in the back to find Jaken helping out the greenhouse keeper, Mr. Yule. The small toad was squawking at poor rabbit demon for mixing up his tulips with his daisies. And one thing you should know about toad demons is that they are very organized and will have a temper tantrum when things go astray.

"Master Jaken?" she asked, walking up to him.

"What do you want?" Jaken snapped.

"Can you take Rin to see a movie tonight?"

"If I do, will you go away?"

The girl smiled rather brightly and nodded.

"Fine," said the toad. "Now leave."

Rin jumped up and down happily, pulling the small creature into her arms. "Oh thank you Master Jaken! Thank you!"

Jaken squirmed in her embrace. "Let me go!"

Rin dropped the toad on the ground and skipped away gleefully back to the house. Her smile did not fade when she went back to her lord's study. She wanted to tell him she was still going to the movies, but to his knowledge, make sure it was child-friendly. Her hands knocked on the green wooden doors again, making herself presence.

"Yes, Rin?" Sesshomaru called.

She opened the doors and peeked her head in enough to see him. The dog demon was still leaned back on his chair comfortably reading the newspaper. "Milord, can Jaken take Rin to the movies tonight to see _Golden Flowers_?" (_Golden Flowers_ is a G rated movie.)

Sesshomaru glanced at her for a moment, and then went back to his paper. "I will allow it."

"Thank you, Lord Sesshomaru!"

The theatre that night was very busy because two new movies were arriving, _Golden Flower_ and _The Colour Black. _All the small children and families were going to the _Golden Flower, _but Rin knew exactly what she wanted to see. People bustled through the large lobby of this twelve theatre building. Rin almost lost Jaken because he was so small. They both had trouble, though, moving through the thick crowd because both of them could've been the smallest figures there, minus the other children of course. The line up to the ticket booth was so long, Rin didn't know if they would ever get there. It was a good thing they got there early enough to get seats.

"What movie are we seeing again?" Jaken asked, tapping his foot impatiently.

They were almost at the front now, and Rin was ever so excited. "_The Colour Black."_ Rin said, clapping her hands together with glee.

"Is it a proper movie for your age?"

Jaken didn't know what _The Colour Black _was about, and because of his obscured view from the tall people and thick crowds, the short demon couldn't get a look at the movie poster to judge.

"Oh of course it is, Master Jaken. We wouldn't be here if it wasn't."

But Rin started to grow nervous because she was under age and seeing a restricted film. Even with Jaken, she knew the seller would not be pleased. She told Jaken she had to go to the bathroom quickly for an excuse, and shuffled off into the opposite direction. This was a lie of course, and she stopped, sitting on nearby red cushioned bench outside the bathroom. She spied through the people and watched Jaken pay for the tickets, waiting until he was far enough from the ticket booth for her to join him.

They both took their seats in the theatre. Rin wanted to sit at the front, but Jaken, because of his age and sensitive ears, was afraid it would be too loud for him. So they opted for seat in the middle. It was rather packed and most of the seats were filled by coupled teenagers, but Rin didn't mind. She was just excited to see the movie.

As it started, her eyes glued to the giant screen. But as the movie progressed, her eyes moved away from the screen more and more. They were either covered by her hands or hidden behind Jaken for comfort. The movie was very scary, a lot scarier than Rin anticipated. Jaken didn't seem effected through, actually the toad fell asleep twenty minutes into the film. Rin screamed, but because other's in the theatre screamed with her, Jaken never noticed. The dark shadows in the movie were what frightened Rin the most. They held scary faces that looked like they had been punched in many, many times. Sometimes they would jump in from behind the main character or from the darkness, frightening the protagonist and the audience. Rin wasn't too pleased with it. But we must remember that this was Rin's first time seeing a horror movie.

Jaken awoke after the movie ended, stretching his limps. Rin was scrunched in a ball, scared to death by the shadows. "Rin, are you alright?" he asked.

The little girl nodded and carefully left her chair. They both exited the theatre, following the groups of people discussing and chatting about the movie they saw that night. Rin was in no mood to speak about the movie though. She just wanted to go home where it was safe. She knew though that Sesshomaru couldn't know about what they saw. She would be in a lot of trouble and Jaken would probably pay a horrible price for letting Rin see a restricted movie. Rin knew she would have to act like nothing ever happened.

They got back to the house and Rin immediately went to bed, complaining she was too tired to talk. Sesshomaru noticed her silence and thought it was odd for her not to speak of something she had just witnessed. Usually the girl would talk non-stop to the wee hours of the morning until Sesshomaru silenced her himself and rushed her off to bed. But tonight it was different.

Rin huddled in a ball on her bed with the lights on. "No scary shadow will get me," she thought. Then a knock on her door made her scream and she jumped under the covers. The creaking door opened and heavy footsteps made their way towards her. When her heavy comforters were lifted off her body, she screamed again, afraid to open her eye.

"Rin," the hard toned voice said.

Rin peeked through her hands to see Sesshomaru sitting on her bed, waiting for her to get up. "Lord Sesshomaru!" she jumped into his arms. "It was horrible. Just horrible."

Of course Sesshomaru knew, when she got home, she went to see that horror movie. You can probably guess that Jaken was punished for it. The poor toad demon was still lying face first on the floor as we speak.

Sesshomaru positioned the ten year old back onto the bed. "You disobeyed me Rin," he said.

Rin sniffed, looking at the pink fuzzy carpet. "Rin knows and she is sorry."

"Rin, you must realize there are things in this world that is still too much for your eyes to see. When I say you must wait, you need to follow them or this will happen."

She nodded. "Rin won't do it ever again, milord. Rin was just curious on seeing the movie because Rin likes scary things."

"The things you are interested in aren't as scary as modern day horror films. You must understand this, or you'll end up like this every time."

"Okay. But can Rin still like the bogeyman and ghosts if they aren't as scary as those shadow creatures?"

"You if can handle them, then yes."

She gave him a smile, and hugged him again. "Thank you, Lord Sesshomaru! You are my best friend." She pulled away, gasping. "Oh no! Master Jaken! Please Lord Sesshomaru, don't go too hard on him. It is my fault anyways."

"If you do not wish I harm him anymore, then I won't. Now get some sleep."

He moved to turn the lights off, to darken the room in the colour black, but Rin stopped him. "Lord Sesshomaru, can you leave the lights on tonight?"

"Very well," he said, giving her a small smile. "Sleep well, Rin."

After that night, Rin never saw a horror movie without speaking to Sesshomaru about it first. Never again did she break his rules about it. And the next horror movie she saw, I can tell you now, she was indeed old enough to see it.


	19. Jane Glass

**The Day of the Dead**

**Author: **Jane Glass

**Fandom: **The Twilight Saga

**Claim: **Edward Cullen

* * *

><p><em>Well, today is officially the day of the dead. <em>Edward thought dryly as he looked out the window where the first bits of sun shine began shining through. It was odd to think about all the ways people celebrated this day. Dress up and go trick-or-treating…decorate graves…set out pumpkins with faces…make "scary" decoration…. It was funny when compared to the real dangers in life. Compared to vampires like him. How do vampires celebrate this day? Ha, well…for those who can keep their control….

"Hey, come on already!" Alice says, pushing his door open easily before turning to glare at Edward. "Doesn't it look a bit too sunny though?" Edward asks, rethinking their plan. "So? Let's get out there! You will not ruin my Halloween!" Alice almost yells, though clearly only playing around. Edward nods after a moment. _After all,_ he thought, _we will be moving soon enough…. And besides, risking people knowing about vampires is part of the fun…._ He stood now before heading down the stairs at Alice's heels.

"About time," Emmett commented. "Yeah, I had to drag him down here." Alice says to him, smirking at Edward. "Maybe this is a bad idea." Jasper says now, frowning. "It's okay, you won't hurt anyone. I can see that, okay?" Alice tells Jasper, quickly running over to comfort him. _Of course you'd lie about your visions like that. You don't know anything for sure. And more importantly, you don't see half the stuff he's thinking about humans now. _Edward thought in annoyance.

Now Alice stayed quiet for a moment, clearly seeing the end of Edward's thoughts before he finished them. "Come on, we'd better hurry." Alice says, turning away from Edward. He frowned more now, if that's even possible. It was so like her to ignore his words like that.

Soon they made it to the first neighborhood on the road from where they live in the woodsy area of town. "That house first!" Alice says, smiling like a little kid. He couldn't blame her though. It was so…exciting every time they did this. The one thing they could do and seemed somewhat normal. Well, being good at things like a bunch of languages and piano and guitar and all that was normal…but this was different.

Alice was the one to knock at the door, Edward by her side on her right, Rosalie on her left, Emmett behind Rosalie and Jasper behind and between Alice and Edward. A moment later and a nice woman who looked to be maybe fifty something opened the door, "Hello—oh, well look at that! I've been visited by vampires! I'm so scared…tell you what, I'll go get some candy for you vamps!"

The best thing was that the people were never really scared and they had no reason to blush or anything else that would cause a bad reaction. It was the best to be seen as a regular person, even though it wasn't true. This day, in many ways, is the day of the dead.

"Here you guys go! Oh and by the way, very nice glitter and makeup!" The kind elderly woman said before handing them a big bag of mixed sweets and walking off again, shutting the door behind her. Now they'd continue getting sweets, and the fun wouldn't end there. They would send someone back to get the candies to Carlisle and Esme who were back at the house, and then Carlisle and Esme, their "parents" would give candies to people who came by.

If anyone thought the house was odd or the people were odd then they would laugh it off as a Halloween thing. Humans could be great sometimes. Halloween could be great sometimes. And those two things mixed together were great all the time.


	20. nightgigjo

**Archive: The Journals of Frank Randall**

**Author:** nightgigjo

**Fandom:** Outlander

**Claim:** Frank Randall

* * *

><p><em>Archive: The Journals of Frank Randall<em>

_by_ ebwakefield78

_posted_ 2014.11.06 17:32

It's been quite some time since I've posted here (life being ridiculously busy and all that) but I did manage to go to the manse and sort out a few things there. Hard to believe that after this long, the caretakers are still finding boxed-up papers my great-great-uncle had squirreled away. Most of them were a total loss - mice find their way into everything, given time. But there was, in a thickly-wrapped package inside another box, one fascinating discovery. It was a slim volume, on rather fine paper, with a plain leather cover.

[img alt="Image of a black leather-bound journal, with foxing and water stains around the edge. src= ]

Most of the book, amazingly, was preserved. There is a bit of water damage to the upper right-hand corner, so sections of text are completely lost. But the lion's share remains, although some sections are missing enough context so as to make little sense.

The handwriting's very tight and cramped, making the most of the paper, since post-war rationing went on long after V-E Day. I'll be transcribing them for the archive in full eventually, but here are a few of the rough scans. It is uncertain when this first excerpt begins, but it is estimated to be a few days previous to the first dated entry, somewhere around 25th October, 1945.

* * *

><p>At long last, Claire and I have managed to break loose of London,<p>

and undertake a second honeymoon. Indeed, we are in many ways

like newlyweds: the war kept us so divided - I in London, and she

on the front - we have not yet developed the settledness I had hoped

we would have by this time, as my parents had. My mother knew from

how my father sat in his chair whether he would light his pipe of an

evening, or if he'd pick up a book and read intently, or work himself

frantic over a cryptic crossword. My father always spoke in hushed

tones to my mother, and gently, but as I grew to manhood, I began to

spy the playfulness in their banter, the teasing and occasional ribaldry

in my father's subdued humor that would draw from my mother her best,

most elusive, smile.

Claire has that smile, mysterious and alluring, and I haven't the foggiest

notion how to purposefully produce it. But she grants it to me, just the

same. The woman I married at the outset of war is as much a puzzle

to me at war's end, but I maintain the hope that some extended time

together will provide us both with a chance to change all that. We de-

part tomorrow morning for Inverness, and a well-earned retreat, before

I am to report to Oxford and re-enter civilian life in three weeks' time.

I shall be glad to be rid of London and its associations. I much prefer

to settle into life as a professor of history.

28 October 1945

We should arrive at Inverness early tomorrow, in enough time to see

a bit of the town before retiring for the night. Rev. Wakefield has invit-

ed the two of us for tea the following afternoon, which should prove

enlightening. Reg has been a friend of the family for so long, I think

of him more as an uncle or older brother than merely one of my father's

acquaintances from bygone days.

I'm afraid that our mutual enthusiasm for all these ragged bits of parch-

ment and dusty tomes drives poor Claire to distraction. We should take

a little excursion out to Castle Leod, though, and get out of the for a

while. There should, at the very least be some interesting plant life for

* * *

><p>At this point there are two entire leaves torn from the journal. A few partial letters appear on the scraps, but they're too small to scan. It appears that three days of journaling are gone, during which time Frank's wife has mysteriously disappeared.<p>

* * *

><p>I don't care what those blasted police want to insinuate: She wouldn't<p>

simply disappear, without a trace, no money, no handbag, no extra

clothing. They're talking nonsense, like this is some disgruntled house-

wife making off with the pin money.

4 Nov.

Three days we've been beating the countryside for any sign, any news

of her. Even recruited a bloodhound to the task, and it followed the scent

up to the crest of the hill, but no further. The poor confounded creature

lead us up to the standing stones, and whined and circled around the

center plinth, but could find no further trace of her. It's as though she

went from the car to the stones and then suddenly disappeared or flew

away.

I try to sleep, but I'm plagued with dreams of her, of seeing her atop the

hill, and she's dancing among the druids at the stones that night, whirling

and spinning, face hidden, except that when she passes me, her eyes

glint out from underneath the deep hooded cowl, and she smiles that sly

smile that I have yet to puzzle out. Then she begins to rise off the ground,

to float away towards the clouded heavens. I race to catch her foot, to

pull her back to me, but the very earth grabs me by the ankles and keeps

me anchored, my fingers brushing the hem of her robe but too far, too far

to grasp. And I wake, and she is gone.

6 Nov.

Reg is right. I have to go to Oxford, to teach history, to live, to provide for

myself and for Claire, so that when she is found, we will have something

to keep us. I cannot abandon my post, but I cannot abandon her, either.

I have scoured Inverness and the county round for employment, but there

is nothing. Too many soldiers already unemployed, too many coming back

to places that may or may not have been kept for them.

There is nothing here for me, nothing but dust and memory. I'll have to

throw myself into study, into historical documents and the stories they

tell, into the accounts that fascinated me, even as a child, but now they

have no more meaning, no more savor. But it is my duty to carry on, to

do what is necessary to live. In case…in case she should come home.


End file.
